


A Series Of Hauntings

by Anonymous



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, M/M, My Chemical Romance References, Panic! at the Disco References, Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 89,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Gerard lives in a lighthouse by Dead Man's Point. He spends his time talking to the seagulls, and painting his prophetic visions.He's seen his fair share of strange things, but when Frank Iero jumps off the cliff's edge, Gerard will do anything just to bring him back.Anything.





	1. The World Is Beautiful And I Am Not Afraid To Die

Some say the seagulls are bothersome, but Gerard was rather fond of them. He fed them bread, and they landed on his windowsill, curiously. In the day, he always kept the latch off, and it was slightly cracked, so that the salty, cool sea breeze drifted through the lighthouse. Gerard sipped at his now cold coffee, and reached out to one of the birds, his palm up, unfurled and inviting. The bird eyed him suspiciously for just a moment, before stepping up onto his fingers.

Gerard smiled, and spoke softly, as not to scare the smaller creature, "You look like you have a sailor's spirit in you, my feathered friend." He said, and tilted his head at him. The bird tilted its head back. Gerard had heard stories that sailors that drowned at sea, would sometimes escape Davey Jones's locker, and would become birds instead. For a long time he envied them, and their ability to simply fly away, into the horizon. Away from the Earth and all of her flowers, and sorrow, until there was nothing left but stars.

.

It was a quiet morning, fog hung low and hugged the waves that crashed in the rocky shoreline, below. Gerard squinted up at the dark clouds that were gathering ominously overhead, and sighed to himself. The seagulls were still near, but they had a friend today, a small, jet black crow. Gerard couldn't say that he was unnerved by the presence of the bird, it took a lot to make him nervous, afterall, but he didn't like the way it was looking at him. "Who's the friend?" Gerard asked, warily to the other birds. Of course, they didn't respond. They never did. They were just here for his bread. 

Gerard looked closer at the crow, and there was a tugging feeling in the pit of his stomach, that told him to look out at the small sunflower field that grew on the Cliffside, and he gasped when he saw that there was a murder of crows, all gathered there, cawing restlessly to one another. "Fuck, and you brought company." Gerard cursed, the crow beside him only squawked in reply. It knew something that Gerard didn't, and that made him a bit anxious. He took a cigarette from out of his pocket and lit it up, breathing the smoke in deeply, and wishing he could exhale all of his uneasiness. But it only clung to him more, like a fever he couldn't sweat out.

.

That night, Gerard had a vision. He saw a man, he was young, and he had a mop of messy black hair that hung, lazily, in his eyes. And his eyes, Gerard realized, looked the same way Mid-Days felt, burned up and hollowed out, like a supernova that collapsed on itself. It made Gerard's chest ache, with a pain that he wasn't familiar with, but if he had to name it, it would be longing. The man was standing, just a few feet from him, but he might as well of been on another continent. Whenever Gerard called out, his words turned to bubbles right before his eyes, as if he were underwater. He frowned, the man didn't notice him.

He was crying, Gerard realized, as he paced in the room they were in. He had a beer bottle in one hand, and he suddenly threw it against the wall, angrily, making Gerard jump. Gerard stared in awe, as the glass shards evaporated into crows. They flew out the door, and he had to duck to keep from getting clawed in the face by them. The man, was talking now, "Oh god, Brian is gonna kill me." He said, after looking at the clock on his nightstand, then grabbing a jacket that was too light for the cold day outside, and bolting out of the room, running straight through Gerard's body. As if he were a ghost.

.

Gerard woke up with a start, his room was freezing, and he shivered, wrapping his blanket tighter around himself. He looked up and saw that the source of the cold, was his open window. He frowned, he hadn't left it open before he fell asleep. He groaned, the wind must've blown it off its latch. He got up out of bed, and cringed as his bare feet hit the frigid floor, he padded over and shut the window. The breeze on his face, though, made him realize something.

He reached a trembling hand up to his cheek, and felt that it was wet. There were tears tracks, running all the way down his chin. But they were warmer than tears, and smelled differently. He pulled his pale fingertips away, and saw the deep red illuminated by the moonlight. Needless to say, he was alarmed by this discovery. A normal person would go and check to see if there was a source of the bloody tears, but Gerard suddenly had the urge,

to paint.

.

The room was pitch black, he couldn't see a thing. Gerard worked fervently, his hands dancing blindly across the canvas. 

The thing about living in a strange lighthouse on the Cliffside, was that the moon whispered odd secrets to Gerard, that crawled into his brain and feasted on his sanity, like maggots. A lot of the local townspeople called him crazy. But they couldn't see what Gerard saw.

Because Gerard could see the future. 

His hand jerked to a stop, the knot in his stomach unwinded, and his mind felt considerably less manic. He turned on the light, anxious to see what it was that he had drawn.

He wasn't surprised to see the familiar hazel eyes staring back at him. Or the curve of the man's neck, and the small hint of tattoos peaking out from the collar of his T-shirt. Gerard bit his lip, and cursed.

This was not going to end well.

.

She had looked so cold, Gerard remembered. He had been going for a walk, in a daze that made him forget the moments leading up to who he was before he saw her. He was holding a bouquet of the wildflowers and sunflowers that he had collected along the way, and was chewing on some honey suckle as he examined the petals on one of them, his mind trying to imagine how he'd paint it. How the colors would look on the page.

When he looked up, she was at the edge of the cliff, by Dead Man's point. The place where local college kids go and dare each other to jump off of when they get too drunk, but always, thankfully, end up chickening out. The drop below is steep, a mind-fucking 102 feet. There are rocks down at the base, and brutal waves that crash against the shore. Only one person had survived the drop, back in 1906, a kid named James Dewees. 

There's always been suicides at the point, that was just a given. So, when Gerard saw the girl, he knew immediately what she was there for. Everything in his gut twisted, and he made his way towards her. He saw her take a deep breath, whilst pulling her hair back into a tight pony tail, readying herself. He watched as she prepared to jump, and a yell tore through him, before he registered it, "Stop! Please, hold on, hold on" He pleaded.

The girl startled, and for a second he thought she would lose her balance and fall right over, but she steadied herself, and turned to look at him. Her eyes wide and panicked, Gerard couldn't help but think he wore the same expression on his face. "Leave me alone, please." She said, her voice surprisingly steady.

Gerard's face softened, and he took a step closer, and she took a step back. He sighed, "Don't do it." 

To his surprise, she let out a laugh. It was a bitter bark, and she looked like she might start crying, "Or what? What will you do?" Her tone was sharp, she cut a glance at him and then back at the water below and said, "It'd be a quick way to go, it'd be like flying." 

"Have you ever gone to the amusement park by the pier on Fourth of July?" Gerard blurted out, his voice rushed. She looked at him confused, eyebrows furrowed.

"What? No." She replied, flatly.

Gerard smiled, remembering going there every fourth, "I used to go there with my brother Mikey. There is this rollercoaster called The Patriot, and it goes up so high, it feels like you could touch the moon, itself." Gerard let out a laugh, "I always got so nervous, and my little brother always teased me because I gripped the handlebar until my knuckles turned white. But god, when you go over the drop, it feels like-"

"It's just a rollercoaster." She cut him off, expression sulky.

"It felt like we were flying." He finished. He walked to her, and reached out his hand, begging her, telepathically, to take it. "Come down, please. It's just the winter, I promise, it's just the cold getting to you." His voice was gentle, "It gets to us all."

She studied his hand, her expression skeptical. "Can you promise me that it won't hurt anymore?" She asked, it had started to rain, flattening her dirty blonde hair to her head, and making her look almost child-like. It broke Gerard's heart.

"I can't." He admitted. 

She blinked several times, and he realized there were tears in her eyes, "Then, I don't want this." She said, and turned back towards the cliff's edge, away from Gerard, away from everything else. She took a step forward, and Gerard lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her like a safety harness, holding her back. She fought against his grip, and even bit into his forearm. "You bastard, let me go!" She screamed, and she was sobbing. Gerard had his cheek pressed against the top of her head, and didn't dare let go, not for a second.

"I am sorry." Gerard apologized, and realized that he was crying, too.

She was still sputtering curses at him, "I hate you." She replied.

"I am okay with that." Gerard replied, and with that, she suddenly grew still. They stood there for awhile, until the rain stopped. Soaking wet, and shivering. 

"I am cold." She finally spoke up, solemnly.

"Lets go get some coffee, then." Gerard said. Taking her hand, she didn't fight him this time, as he led her away from the edge, and back towards the light house. Its light shining brightly, through the fog that was starting to fall over them.

.

"You live in a lighthouse?" She had asked, a slow smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. Gerard noticed that she had dimples, and for some reason madr a mental note if it.

"It's more cozy, than you'd think." He responded, coming out of the small kitchen, into the even smaller dining space, that was really just a table with a few chairs propped around it. He handed her one of the mugs of coffee, and shrugged, "I like it here. It's good for my work, and I like watching the ships come home." 

She blew on the coffee, trying to cool it, and watched the steam roll off the top of it. She frowned, "Why'd you tell me that story about you and your brother?" She finally asked.

Gerard smiled softly, "Because, even if life is a fucking hell hole, there are still beautiful things, things that make it feel worth it." 

"That's sappy." She teased.

"Yeah, I am a sappy person. I am sorry." He took a sip from his coffee, "But it's true."

She was squeezing her arm with her other hand, looking contemplative, "Does it ever stop hurting?" She asked, sounding almost scared. 

"I don't know. Maybe not," He said, even quieter, "But you get stronger."

There was a seagull that had landed on the windowsill, and then flew right in, stealing a piece of bread from off the table and then flying out, Gerard gasped, offended, "Goddammit! That asshole knows I hate it when he does that!" The girl had watched in shock, her mouth hanging open as she looked between the open window and Gerard. Gerard rolled his eyes at the bird, "Sorry, that tends to happen. Those bread-eating bastards are a nuisance."

She stared at him a second more, before they both burst into uncontrollable giggles.

The coffee kept coming. They talked until 3 a.m., and by the time she left, Gerard's chest hadn't felt so broken, and when it was over, they both realized they had something that wasn't there before.

A friend.

 

.

That wouldn't be the last time that Gerard talked someone down, he became somewhat of a local tale. Of the man who lives in the light house, and whilst maybe the light from the tower guided lost sailors home, they all said that Gerard was the actual guardian of the sea of the lost, watching out over the cliff, and catching people before they fell.

And it suited him.

.

The next day, there were even more crows. And there was a man standing at the edge of the cliff.

Gerard didn't have to see his face to know, that it was him.

He grabbed his jacket, and a cigarette, and walked out, into the chilly morning. A crow landed on his shoulder, and Gerard decided that maybe just maybe -

He looked like a bad ass.


	2. Phantoms In The Summer

Frank never liked the ocean, or the beach, but somehow, whenever things got bad he always found himself at the edge of it. Staring out, imagining how far he could get if he just swam into it, before he inevitably got too tired to swim anymore, and just let the waves take him. He listened to the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocky shore, that was below. He took a drag off of his cigarette, unknowingly frowning.

Today was not Frank Iero's day, he had left the house in an awful mood after getting into a fight with his dad, that had ended with his father launching a knife across the room, that struck him right in the arm. Frank had tugged it out of his skin, with shaky hands, trembling from rage and fear, and had tossed it right back. Then, he had taken off. Without a jacket, or his bag, just a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and maybe a deathwish in his pocket.

He didn't want to go home, and for a moment, he contemplated stepping off the ledge, entirely, about how easy it would be, and then there was a voice. "Man, are you waiting for God to show up, or something?"

Frank whirled his head around, confusion furrowed in his brow, "What'd you say?" He replied, dumbly. The owner of the voice looked like an ink splotch on a page, his hair was messily cut, and was dyed jet black. He wore a long dark coat, that was a little too big for him, along with a scarf that was wrapped around his neck. That wasn't the odd part about the stranger though, Frank's eyes grew wide when he saw that he had a LITERAL crow perched on his shoulder.

The guy laughed a bit, it was an airy and well-loved chuckle, that made Frank's heart hiccup for some unknown reason. "I just thought you looked like you were praying for some divine intervention."

"I am an atheist." Frank stated, bluntly.

He nodded, and his crow friend picked at a speck that was on his coat, but he didn't seem to notice the bird. "I am too, but the sea makes you hope."

Frank couldn't help but let out an incredulous laugh, "This guy is seriously weird." He thought to himself, and he loved it. 

"You think I am funny?" He smirked at Frank, Frank decided he liked the way he smiled. How it tugged at one side of his mouth. 

"Something like that." Frank replied, amused. 

"I am Gerard." He said, introducing himself. 

"Frank." Frank said, and then narrowed his eyes at the bird on Gerard's shoulder, "And your friend?"

"He just sorta showed up." Was all he cared to explain to Frank. They stood there in a companionable quiet, for a little while. The wind that was blowing off of the sea grabbed at Gerard's scarf and it danced wildly around him. Gerard's expression grew concerned, "Dude, it's like 40 degrees out, where's your coat?" He asked.

Frank internally groaned, his anger had been burning like a fire in his belly. It kept him warm. But since he has been talking to Gerard, he's gotten considerably more calm, and was starting to notice the goose bumps crawling up his arms, still, he scowled defensively, "What are you? My mom?"

Gerard shook his head, and tapped the crow gently with his finger, to alert him that he needed the bird to move. The bird squawked, disgruntled. "Move on over, bud." Gerard whispered, gently. Frank watched him curiously, as the bird flew away and Gerard shimmied out of his jacket. He got closer to Frank, studying him for a moment, his eyes landed on the place on his arm where the knife had stuck. There was congealed blood left over, and it glistened, angrily against Frank's pale skin.

Gerard's expression grew soft, he reached out and put a feather light touch to it, "I have something that could help with this." Frank just yanked his arm away, as if he had been burned. Gerard's concern was genuine though, he cleared his throat and handed Frank the coat, watching as Frank slid his arms into it.

Gerard was considerably taller than Frank, and so the coat looked sort of ridiculous on him. It was warm though, Frank let out a soft sigh, quietly relishing the return of feeling to his fingers as he stuffed them into the coat's pockets. "Holy shit, I forgot how good not feeling like a human ice-pop was like."

Gerard chuckled, "You take care of yourself, Frank." He finally said.

Frank couldn't help but get a sudden feeling of loss wash over him, at Gerard's words. "He can't leave. Not now." He thought to himself, but then mentally smacked himself. He had just met the guy, how was he already so attached to him? He started to take the coat off, but Gerard quickly shook his head, and pulled the coat back up on his shoulders. He was close, Frank could see a small dark mark on his upper cheek, and had the sudden urge to reach up and place his thumb over it. But instead, he kept his hands planted firmly by his sides, like a normal fucking person. "Keep the coat. You have a long walk home." He mused.

Frank watched as Gerard waved him goodbye, the crow returning to rest on his shoulder, as he walked back into the sunflower field, he was too heavenly to be a ghost, and too dark to be completely human, like a phantom that he had seen, in the middle of summer.


	3. Magic: The Gathering

For the first time in weeks, the night was clear. The storm clouds had scuttled away, gliding to another land, leaving Gerard to be able to study the stars. He had fumbled through the small storage closet, the seagulls watching him curiously as he cursed and tossed objects over his shoulder. "It's around here somewhere!" He grumbled, and ran a hand through his unruly hair. Gerard noted that it was getting awfully long, and wondered if it were time to cut it.

He liked how he could be a shapeshifter, when it came to his hair. How he could change himself with just a can of bleach and dye. He hadn't changed his hair in awhile, though. Gerard caught his reflection in the mirror, across the room, and smiled to himself.

He wasn't trying to run from anything, anymore.

.

Gerard had all but given up on his search from earlier. He had gone upstairs and spent the evening reading Kurt Vonnegut, huddled underneath a blanket and patch of moonlight. When he returned downstairs, he was surprised to see what he had been looking for before,

a telescope.

.

The stars were beautiful that night, Gerard could even see the milky way, shining silver and ending in the dark sea on the horizon. He even caught a shooting star, and had made a wish.

He wished to see Frank, again.

.

That night, the moon spoke to Gerard in a dream. Or maybe it was more accurate to call it a nightmare. The crows were back, and they were sitting on the powerlines and on the roofs, they looked like spectators, and Gerard couldn't help but feel a little bit like a chunk of meat thrown into a lion's pit. He swallowed, thickly, it was suddenly so foggy that he could barely see what was in front of him.

"Hello?" He called, and his voice echoed. He hadn't ever been to this side of town before, Gerard wasn't quite sure where he was. 

Something was moving in the fog, and before he had time to jump out of the way, Frank came colliding into him. His eyes were panicked, he didn't even seem to notice Gerard, as he stumbled and got back to his feet. He threw his head over his shoulder and called out to someone, "Come on! We gotta get out of here!" 

Gerard couldn't help but notice that Frank looked slightly different, his hazel eyes were duller, his skin paler and a bit sallow. He frowned, and said, "Frank, are you okay?" But his voice was blurred out by the sound of sirens. Frank cursed, and bolted. Red and blue flashes were flickering off the buildings. Time felt like it was slowing down, as a police car came hurtling toward Gerard.

He woke up right before it hit.

.

Frank hadn't known where his feet were taking him, until he was at the small dirt road that would take him to the lighthouse. Bushes and trees lined it, stretching out onto the path at times, making Frank have to step over them. He smiled, and plucked an apple off of one of the trees that had a low hanging branch, as he passed, sliding it into his jacket's pocket for later. 

When he had gotten back home, the day before, his dad hadn't been there. However, his mom was. She was on the couch, watching The Bachelor, and yelling at the T.V., in vain. Frank had smiled at the sight of her, his dad might be an ass, but Frank loved his mom. She was a saint. She looked up at him, brightly, when he walked in. "And so he returns." She said.

Frank shrugged, "I knew you would miss me." And went over to sit down next to her on the couch. She opened her arms wide and allowed him to rest his head against her shoulder, as she wrapped an arm around him. They sat there for a little while, not saying anything, until his mom asked, "Anything good happen today? Any new adventures? Did you find a cat on the park bench, that gave you a meaningful side quest?" She teased.

Frank laughed, his mind immediately going to Gerard, and how he had made Frank feel as if the world had suddenly come into focus. How he had placed a weird feeling in his chest. "You could say that." Frank replied.

She sighed, "You're a real talker today, aren't you?" 

"I am tired." Frank explained.

She clicked her tongue, but it was more directed at the T.V., than at Frank. A woman named Tracy had just come up on the screen, and his mother mumbled something about how she was totally tacky, and Chris needed to pick Monica, but of course, he'll pick Tracy. 

After a moment, she pinched his arm, gathering some of the fabric of the coat. "Where'd you get this thing?" She asked.

"A friend." He replied.

Frank didn't have to look up, to know that she was smiling. "A good one?" 

"I hope, so." He had responded. 

Frank found himself still smiling, as he was walking, and didn't notice that he was already almost to the lighthouse, walking through the field of sunflowers, until he heard the faint sound of someone singing.

He immediately snapped out of his day dreaming, and listened closer. It was distant, and he realized it was coming from up in the lighthouse, from one of the open windows. He smiled, when he saw Gerard dance by the window, humming along to a song on the radio.

When the song ended, Gerard started singing another one, without the radio. His voice ringing out over the field, through the window like a spell. It was a sweet song, but Gerard's voice still had a way of making it sound sad, and raw, but in the gentlest way possible. Frank was mesmerized by it, he had grown very still, holding on to every note as if it were being sung just for him. He hadn't ever heard anyone sing like that. 

Frank loved it.

Gerard stopped, suddenly. Frank was out of his trance, and realized that the other boy was now looking out his window, and was staring right at him. He immediately felt his cheeks flush, as Gerard called out to him, "Frank? Is that you?" 

Frank wanted to shrivel up and die, he must look so creepy, just standing out in the middle of the fucking field, like some sort of fucking stalker. He awkwardly said, "I have your coat."

Gerard's slightly concerned expression, turned into a wide grin. "Of course you have my coat, Frank. I gave it to you." 

"Well, I am here to return it, I guess." Frank replied.

Gerard's face fell for a moment, "Is that all you came here to do?" 

Frank hurriedly replied, "What else would I do?"

"Stay for a game of Magic The Gathering, duh." Gerard offered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Frank let out a laugh, as Gerard called, "I'll be down to let you in, in a sec." 

.

They played for 5 hours straight, Gerard swearing every time he lost, his hair seemed to even grow in frustration. By the end of a 3rd game, it was standing on end, basically defying the laws of gravity. Frank watched him with a sly smirk, as he smacked his cards down on the table in defeat, sighing exasperatedly, "Are you for - fucking - real?!! I thought I had you that time!!!"

Frank let out a low whistle, "Maybe next time you'll be wise enough to not underestimate me, Gerard Way." Frank gathered up the cards again, and shuffled them, "I am full of surprises."

Gerard eyed him, carefully, and shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle. He was looking down at his hands, and Frank noticed all of the paint splotches on them. Without really thinking, Frank reached out and touched a finger to a bright red stain on Gerard's thumb, "You paint?"

Gerard seemed to tense, and Frank realized that he was probably making the poor guy uncomfortable, so he quickly sat back in his chair and cleared his throat. "Sorry, I just think that's cool... you know?" Gerard blinked at him, "Painting is uh," Frank could feel himself blushing and cursed himself in every way possible, "It's cool."

Gerard laughed, and said, "Follow me."

Frank obeyed, and ran after Gerard as he bolted up the twisting steps that led to the upper floors. There were so many steps, and he could feel his calves burning a bit, by the time they reached the floor that Gerard was taking him to. "He must have killer fucking legs, climbing these bastards every day." Frank thought to himself, absently when they stopped. They were on a landing, and there was a small door off to the side, Gerard opened it slowly and said, "Be careful, it's dark." Before stepping aside to let Frank in.

There wasn't much space in the room, if you could call it that. It was more like a cupboard, that was covered entirely in canvas and papers and photographs. There was one window in the room, that was covered with a black sheet, and was only admitting a little bit of grey light into the room. Frank blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to adjust. "Why the hell isn't there any light?" He asked.

"I see better in the dark." Gerard replied, nonchalantly.

"Fuck off, you don't actually work like this. That's impossible!" Frank exclaimed, incredulously. Gerard only shrugged.

As Frank stepped closer to the painting in the middle of the room, on the canvas, he could make out that it was of a person. Although, that was about all he could really see of it. He frowned, and looked over to his right and saw a string hanging down from a light on the ceiling, relief washed over him, as he reached up to pull it.

Gerard let out what could only be described as a mortified squeak, as the bulb flickered on, illuminating the image on the canvas. Frank let out a shocked "Oh" when he saw what it was.

It was him.

At first, it caught Frank a little off guard, but as he looked at it closer, he was more awe-struck by it. He could see all of Gerard's patient and detailed paint strokes, and how they all tied together to make the image come to life. It might as well of been a photograph. Frank let out a breath, "This is-"

"Please don't be freaked out, I promise this isn't as creepy as it seems." Gerard started, Frank looked up at him, his eyes wide. Gerard stopped talking, and looked sort of like his brain was eating itself.

"This is beautiful." Frank finished. Gerard seemed confused by this response, but relaxed a bit. Frank frowned, and asked, "You see more than paintings, don't you? It's more than that, isn't it?" His skin felt like it was tingling, as if everything beneath his skin was shifting.

"Maybe." Gerard said, expression darkening.

"What do you see right now?" Frank asked.

Gerard suddenly reached up, and turned the light off, plunging them back into darkness, his voice ringing out as he said, "I see you."


	4. Cheap Whiskey

Mikey Way was a peculiar boy, who played bass guitar and took pictures of people he saw that looked like they had a story. He carried his camera with him everywhere he went, his favorite subjects had to be the old woman who sat in the park, wearing a big faux fur coat, and every piece of jewelry she owned. He had talked to her a few times, and when he asked what she was there for, she had cackled and replied, "I am waiting for my date, young man." Mikey gave her a toothy smile, and decided that they were friends after that.

Another interesting character was a boy named Ray Toro, he played guitar in Frank's band, and dabbled in rocket science on the side. He seemed like an ordinary guy, but Frank was convinced that he was some type of genius or whatever. Plus, his smile was brighter than the sun. 

Mikey kept all of his pictures taped to the walls of his room, they covered practically the entire ceiling, and there was barely any blue paint peaking through on the walls. He liked it that way, he liked the chaos of it. 

He had met Frank Iero the same way anyone met Frank, with him charging at Mikey in a fit of sheer rage, looking as if he might punch his lights out. Luckily, for Mikey, he had only fumed, "The hell are you doing, taking pictures of me, you creep?"

Mikey had only stuttered, he was always sort of nervous, and having Frank look at him as if he were a bull, and Mikey was a very shitty matador, was not helping. "I just thought you looked... Peaceful." Mikey had explained. 

And Frank had looked peaceful, he was sitting on a park bench, with a guitar and was quietly noodling on it. His eyes had been half closed, and the breeze ruffled his hair every now and then, lovingly. Mikey could tell that Frank loved playing guitar by the way his lips curled up, whenever the notes really came together and formed something... different, something beautiful. 

Mikey needed a picture of him, and so he had snapped one, he had thought it was secretive, but apparently Frank didn't miss anything. His head had snapped up, and his peaceful expression was gone. 

Frank was frowning at Mikey, now. Mikey got the feeling that Frank frowned a lot, actually. He held out his hand and Mikey's stomach twisted when he realized that the boy wanted his camera, his mind inmediately imagining his beautiful work smashed on the ground. Frank seemed to catch on to Mikey's thought, and let out a frustrated huff of breath, "Oh c'mon, I might be an asshole, but I am not a monster." His voice softened, "I just wanna see the picture, dude."

Mikey finally obliged, and handed it over. Frank carefully clicked through Mikey's gallery, and he made a soft, almost approving noise. Mikey was wringing his hands, as Frank didn't stop at the one picture of him, but just kept going. "These are..." He paused, and studied a picture of a girl with bright pink hair and freckles, a bit more, "These are really good..." Frank had said.

Mikey had stuttered out a "Thanks." And somewhere in that painfully awkward exchange, Mikey had become friends with Frank.

A gift and a curse, that even Mikey didn't understand, yet.

.

 

Frank had gotten home way later than he had intended to. The lights were dark, and he was trying to sneak past the kitchen, where he could hear his father reaching around in the fridge for a beer. Frank cursed every small noise that he made, expecting his dad to hear and to turn and start yelling.

He made it to the hallway, and realized that he was home-free and bolted the rest of the way to his room, he had a running start and jumped straight into his bed, the mattress creaking in protest as Frank sank into it. He stared up at his ceiling, and smiled to himself, as he thought about Gerard and his paintings, and the game of Magic. Frank reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the apple he had taken from the tree earlier, and bit into it, allowing himself to believe that things were looking up, finally.

.

Frank woke up to the sound of people yelling, at first he thought he was still half-way in a nightmare, sleep clinging to him like a thick fog. But then, he heard a crash and his mother cry out. Frank snapped up in bed, and jumped up, racing out into the kitchen and seeing his mother, massaging her cheek, on the floor. There was blood trickling from her nose, as his father loomed, drunkenly, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

Frank's entire world turned red, as anger flared up inside of him. He heard his mother say, "Frankie, go back to bed." But he had already tackled his dad.

Frank was small, but he was strong. He threw several punches, feeling bones crack underneath his fists, before his dad finally came to his senses and flung Frank off. Frank hit the wall, and his vision went white. His dad, swung a punch that hit him right in the nose, and Frank let out a yelp, his hands going to his face, instinctively. His whole body was singing with pain, as his dad grabbed him roughly and dragged him across the room, opening the front door and flinging him out onto the porch. 

Frank laid there for what seemed like centuries, pretty soon he was sure his chest, which felt bruised, was going to decay and turn into a flower bed. He vaguely registered he was crying, until his shirt's collar was soaked. 

It was still late, Frank went to go find trouble, and by trouble, he meant Bob Bryar and Ray Toro. 

.

Ray Toro was already drunk when he answered the door at 4 a.m., to see Frank standing on the doorsteps with a bloody nose, and a swollen cheek, looking like a bat out of hell. "What the hell happened to you?!" Ray asked, and Frank pushed past him, into the living room where Bob and Brian both were sitting and yelling at a T.V. screen. They were playing Halo, and Bob kept killing Brian off, every time he would respawn. 

"Fuck off, Bryar! Cut a newbie some slack!" Bob only laughed, and took a sip from his beer.

They all looked up as Frank entered, quiet for a few moments, so that the only noise was the sound of gun shots coming from the T.V. 

"You look like the grim reaper took you on a cheap date, and then left you in the parking lot after trying to give you a blow job." Brian said.

Frank's nose twisted up, "I am gonna try to pretend like that made sense." Brian shrugged.

"Is everything okay, Frank?" Ray said, and he looked genuinely concerned, as he put a hand on Frank's shoulder. Frank tried not to cringe in pain at the touch, he was still sore from being thrown across the fucking kitchen.

Frank hobbled to the fridge and grabbed a beer, twisting the lid off and downing all of it, in the span of seconds, "I've never been better." He spat, letting out a bitter laugh. The guys all gave each other looks, like they knew better, but didn't question Frank any further.

There was a few more seconds of silence, before the grand master chief's death grunt filled the room, and Brian let out an offended groan, "Are you fucking kidding me?! That's not even fair! I wasn't ready!" His voice tinged with despair.

Frank couldn't help but laugh.

.

"I am gonna fucking kill him." Frank spat out, the room was spinning and his stomach felt warm. He was shooting finger guns at the ceiling, pretending that the popcorn on the wall, was his dad. "Pew pew." Frank mouthed, imaginary bullets blooming from his finger tips.

Ray smirked, his cheeks were flushed, and he looked like he desperately needed to get some sleep. The sun was just peeling back the darkness of night, pearl morning light cracking the sky open like an egg shell. "You don't mean that, Iero." Ray mused.

Frank was laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, whilst clutching a cushion to his chest. He felt like something was wrong with his heart, but then again, he always felt like it was too heavy to bare. He hoped that getting shit faced would make it easier to carry, but he could still feel all of his sorrow clinging to him. He let out a sigh, "You're right, I wouldn't." He tilted his head so that he was looking at Ray, upside down. "But, I want to."

Ray stumbled over and sat next to Frank. Ray was a good guy, he ran a hand through Frank's hair, comfortingly, and said, "As soon as we get signed to that label, we'll be out of here, Frankie. You won't ever have to see that asshole ever again." His touch was soft, but his expression was determined.

Frank frowned, "What about my mom? I can't just leave her, Ray!" His voice rose, and stirred Brian, who was snoring on the couch opposite to them. Frank cringed, and lowered his voice, "I can't do that to her."

Ray shook his head, "This is all you've ever wanted, we're almost there, you can't back out just because you can't save everyone." They sat there in silence, the T.V. flickering still, the morning news anchor's faces smiling brightly, with dead eyes, as they reported the weather and traffic. 

Frank's throat felt thick as he said, "I wish I could heal my mom in all of the places that she's broken." And his voice cracked at the end of it.

Ray hugged him closer, not saying a word. Frank wished he could disappear.

.

Frank stumbled home somewhere around 7 a.m., except he wasn't going home. He wasn't sure where he was going, actually. The town wasn't awake, yet. It was too early to be crawling out of bed on a Saturday, and the sky was much too heavy with stormclouds. Frank really wished he had a coat, and not for the first time, felt himself longing for Gerard.

He vaguely realized that he was at the park, and he passed an old woman on a bench, watching him through her dark sun glasses, even though there was no sun to be seen. Frank's eyebrows furrowed, as he realized she was speaking to him, "What?" He breathed.

"You should be at home, darling." She said, and rustled a bit like a pigeon would ruffle its feathers, as she snuggled deeper into her coat. "Strange things hunt at this hour, when daylight hasn't put them to bed, yet."

Frank ignored her, and rubbed his face with his hands, cursing himself for drinking so much. The next thing he knew, he was following a crow that was flying from tree to tree, almost as if it were guiding Frank. Until finally, it joined a whole murder of them, that was taking post in a willow. They filled every branch, and Frank got the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. 

Frank didn't remember much after that encounter, just a blurred vision of blearily opening his eyes and seeing a familiar face hovering above him, it looked like Gerard, but slightly off, "Gerard?" Frank breathed.

"Good grief, you're wasted." Said a voice that definitely wasn't Gerard's. 

Frank frowned, "Will you sing to me?" He asked, hearing Gerard's sad singing in the back of his mind.

The Not Gerard let out a heavy sigh, before gathering Frank up and saying, "You're so lucky that I am a good friend."

.

When Frank woke up, he had the worst headache of his life. The entire room felt like it was swaying, and the light pouring from the window was doing its best to melt Frank's brain. He groaned, sitting up and trying to blink away the hangover, but it was no use. "Shit." He grumbled, "Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down onto the mattress, "Hey, it's okay, take it easy." It said. Frank's head spun, the voice was sobering, almost. When Frank looked up, sure enough, it was Gerard. "Here." He said, handing Frank a cup of water, "You scared the shit out of Mikey." He said, eyes studying Frank as he chugged the cup of water, some of it spilling down onto his shirt. 

Frank frowned, "You know Mikey?" As he groggily remembered the Not Gerard that picked him up at the park. His face finally coming into focus, the angles and heavy eyelids, forming Mikey's face, instead of Gerard's.

Gerard laughed, nodding, "He's my little brother." He replied. He sat down next to Frank, and his expression darkened as he reached a hand out and touched the bruise on Frank's cheek. It hurt, but Frank found himself almost leaning into the touch, anyways. "Who did this, Frank?

"I picked a fight with Keanu Reeves." Frank replied, sarcastically.

Gerard's expression didn't change, "Was it the same person who hurt your arm, the other day?" He asked, and his voice was so gentle and understanding, that it made Frank want to set himself on fire.

"It doesn't fucking matter." Frank scowled, as he swung himself out of bed on the otherside, Gerard looked a little hurt by this, but Frank didn't care. He had a right to keep his own secrets, and he hated the sudden urge in his chest to tell Gerard everything. He didn't know what it was, but it scared him. 

Frank had the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. Something important.

"What time is it?" He asked, after taking a breath. The room was still rocking, precariously, as he tried hard to remember.

"4 p.m." Gerard replied.

Frank cursed, as the realization came hurtling toward him like a crashing satellite. He had a show. He jumped up and flew out of the room, Gerard yelling after him to slow down. But Frank couldn't, the gig was at 5 p.m., and it was all the way on the otherside of town. "I can't stay! I have a show!" He called out, he made it to the main level of the lighthouse, and saw Mikey sitting, boredly texting. Mikey barely looked up as Frank barrelled past, with Gerard on his tail.

Before Frank could escape, Gerard spun him around, looking concerned and a bit frantic, "Would you calm down?!" He exclaimed.

"You're gonna make me late!" Frank growled, and tried to move away, but Gerard wouldn't let him go. 

"No, shut up. Just shut up, for one fucking second, Mikey found you passed out in the middle of the fucking park at 7 a.m., your face looks like you lost a fight to Freddy Krueger, and I want answers before you just go and fuck off to God knows where!" Gerard's face was red, even his ears were tinged in a crimson hue.

Frank was quiet for a few moments, his skin itching to run away. To take the easy way out, and to just tell Gerard to go fuck himself. But, he couldn't. He opened and closed his mouth several times before saying, "I have a shitty dad."

Gerard softened, and tried to say something, but Frank cut him off, "Listen, I don't want your fucking pity right now, I just want to get to my guitar, and haul ass to this show at the Uptown." Frank felt his voice waver, "This is all I got. I just need to play, I need to clear my mind."

Gerard nodded, quickly, "Fine. I'll drive you."

That surprised Frank, as they ran together towards Gerard's car, speeding through the storm that had just cracked the sky open above them, Frank couldn't help but feel delighted by this turn of events.


	5. Hauntings

The uptown was rumored to be severely haunted by several ghosts. There were hunched and sinister looking gargoyles that sat looking down at them, as Gerard and Frank made there way into the building. It was already packed, Frank's band was opening for Thursday, and were already setting up. 

There was a man sitting with his legs dangling over the stage, glaring at his phone as if he meant to vaporize it with his fucking eyes. Frank gulped, "Hey Gerard, by any chance, can you use your weird powers to make me disappear?"

Gerard was taken aback by that, and let out a loud laugh, making Brian look up immediately. Gerard cupped a hand over his mouth, as Frank looked over at Gerard with a look that stated, "I would eat cake on your grave." But, by the looks of it, Frank was gonna be 6 feet under way before Gerard, Brian was fuming.

"Where the hell have you been, Frank?! Why didn't you answer my calls?" Brian held up his phone, pointedly. "We go on in 15 minutes!"

Frank waved him off, which didn't seem to help Brian's sour mood, but Frank cut him off before he could say anything else, "Listen, babe, I am here, and I promise I won't let anything else go wrong tonight." He assured him. Brian just scoffed, shaking his head, before Bob called him over for something. Frank turned back to Gerard, eyes bright, suddenly, "Promise you'll stay for the show." He smirked, looking like a kid who was in the school's play.

Gerard smiled, "Of course, I am staying." And then crossed his arms and nodded towards the stage, "Don't waste time talking to me, you have a show to put on." 

Frank looked at him a moment longer, as if pondering something, before saying, "You're right, see you in a bit. Save me a beer, okay?" 

Gerard rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the half smile that curled at the edges of his lips. He turned to take in the rest of the venue, the stage was rather small, and so was the room. There were about 70 kids packed into a space that could hardly fit 30. 

The thing Gerard loved the most about rock shows, were the people. They were beautiful. Hair dyes all sorts of colors. Peony pinks. Periwinkle blues. Lizard greens. Raven blacks. Eyes framed with dark, sharp eyeliner that could cut, decked out totally in jackets with assorted pins, spiked boots, and platforms. Everyone was sweaty and buzzing, and it already smelled a bit like weed. Gerard liked how interconnected he felt though, for a little bit, he wasn't an outsider.

But then again, yes he was. Because he was Gerard Way, and Gerard had been an alien all his life. He sighed, deciding he needed to go take a piss before the show started. He made his way through the crowd, and down a stuffy hall, where teenagers were smoking cigarettes and murmuring softly to each other. A kid with more gel in his hair, than the entire state of Jersey combined, glared at him, as Gerard inched past him into the bathroom.

It was quiet in the bathroom. There was the faint sound of talking and music playing softly through the walls, and for some reason, it made Gerard feel as if he had lost something. Although, he couldn't figure out what.

Anyways, he finished his business, and was washing his hands and admiring his dark circles in the mirror, when a face popped up in it that wasn't his own. Gerard let out a scream, and instantly jumped back 4 feet, his heart practically leaping from his chest like a race dog. He stared harder, and saw that it was in fact the face of a young girl. Her eyes were wide and brown like saucers, and Gerard realized, they were laughing at him. "Oh, you're a pretty one." She teased, "I've never seen you before, I would remember. I remember everyone, but you, you're different. You're new."

Gerard opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally settling on, "You weren't watching me pee, were you? Ghosts have a privacy policy, right?" 

The girl scrunched her nose up at him, "If I wanted to spy on people in compromising positions, I'd head over to the Hanged Man, next door. No, I just like it here because it's quiet." She mused, almost bored.

Gerard's heart still was beating at an ungodly rate, he took a steadying breath before asking, "Do you strike conversations up with every bathroom goer?" 

She gave him a toothy grin, "Just the interesting ones." Her expression clouded, "You're cursed, Gerard Way." She told him, and her voice seemed sad. It made Gerard sad, too. The way spilling a good cup of coffee made you sad, or missing the chance to talk to someone beautiful made you sad.

"What do you mean?" Gerard's brows furrowed, and she disappeared from the mirror and suddenly Gerard was looking at Frank instead. Except he was off, the way a flipped version of some thing is subtly different. He looked so upset, tears streaming down his face, but they were made of blood. They dripped from his chin and stained his shirt, his brown eyes looking too dark, too desperate. "Oh god, what did you do to him?" Gerard breathed, and pressed his hand up against the mirror. He wanted to reach through to Frank's image, to console him, but his eyes suddenly locked with Gerard's, and they were angry. 

"You did this." He growled, voice filled with pure hatred.

Gerard backed away, confusion scribbled across his features. Guilt flooded him, as he tried to imagine how on Earth he could've caused this version of Frank so much pain. The mirror girl's voice rang out from every direction, causing a piercing pain to split through Gerard's head, he let out a groan and stumbled, steadying himself on the edge of the sink, his head hung over the white porcelain, as if he might vomit, the girl spoke, her voice almost sounded sing-songy, "Poor, poor boy. You break everything you touch."

Gerard looked back up at the mirror, and at that exact moment the glass shattered, shards shooting out at him, his hands went up to cover his face, but he was too slow, he could already feel cuts on his cheeks, glass in his hair glittering like crumpled stars. Gerard barely had time to register what had happened, when something tackled him to the ground. He fell back, his head hitting the tile and sending white sparks shooting across his vision. He could see a dark figure sitting on his chest, eyes burning holes into him. Gerard didn't have to make out the features to know that it was Frank, he leaned in close, and traced one of the bleeding cuts on Gerard's cheek, "You made me into such an ugly thing. Look at what you did." His voice shook.

Gerard squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head, "I don't know what you're talking about. Tell me what I did wrong, Frank!" He screamed.

Frank laughed, and it was bitter and tainted, Gerard could've sworn he heard other things laughing with him. Inhuman things. "You'll see soon enough." Gerard opened his eyes again, and Frank was just Frank again, hazel eyes soft and beautiful. 

"I don't want to hurt you." Gerard wished he'd stop crying, but he sort of felt broken, Frank tilted his head and smiled sadly at him.

"But, you will. It's not your fault. It's just who you are." Frank said, gently, and then placed a kiss on Gerard's forehead, before disappearing completely. The bathroom was deafeningly silent without Frank there, and Gerard was staring up at the ceiling, hoping to find answers in the popcorn. He curled in on himself, the way he used to when he was a kid and let out a sob, because that seemed like the logical thing to do after being attacked by a horrific version of your beautiful friend. 

He stayed there for awhile, before there was someone who came in. Gerard stilled, suddenly realizing that he might look a little insane, crying on the bathroom floor like this. There was a soft gasp, before, to his surprise, a girl's voice rang out, "Gerard?!"

Gerard wondered if he was imagining things, as the girl he had met months ago on the cliff, bent down next to him. Her blond hair hanging in tendrils, the ends dyed a vibrant pink, like strawberry frosting. He reached up and touched one of the strands and said, hoarsely, "It's pink." His vision was still swimming, "I like it."

The girl shook her head, and fished into her pocket, "I am calling the paramedics." She said quickly. 

Gerard's stomach lurched, and for a second he feared he might vomit all over her pretty black dress, "Please. Don't. I am okay, I promise, I am okay." He lied.

Her eyes went gentle, and she put the phone down for a second, "You're lying." She said flatly.

Gerard shakily lifted himself up, and ran a hand through his hair, "I-I just wanna see the opening band. I need to see Frank." He said, stubbornly. She bit her lip and eyed him suspiciously, for a second he feared she would ignore his pleas and call an ambulance, anyways. "Please." He begged.

She sighed, put her phone away, "Fine. But I am keeping an eye on you." She gave in, and stood up, reaching a hand down to help him to his feet. He took it, and tried to ignore the way the room spun, and tilted, like a car tail-spinning. She looked over at the mirror and finally said, "What happened in here?" Then turned and looked back at Gerard, "What happened to your face?"

Gerard shrugged, "You know how this place is haunted?" Her frown deepened. "I think I got into a fight with one of the ghosts." 

She raised an eyebrow, "What did you take?!" She exclaimed.

He waved a hand, "I am really okay." 

She sighed, relenting, "If you say so. But if I find you passed out in a backroom, face blue, later, I am gonna go ghostbusters on your ghost."

Gerard smiled, "Okay, Holtzman."

She was still scowling as she helped him find his way back to the stage, where Frank's band, was ripping into their first song. The crowd erupted, pressing forward, already hanging on to the band as if they were a preacher giving a sermon. The events from the bathroom felt distant, as Gerard let himself get absorbed by the music. 

When he saw Frank, a grin cracked on his face. Frank was playing like a mad man jumping, spinning, diving, as if he were a firecracker. At some point during the set, he had stood on the drums and fallen onto the drummer, Gerard felt bad for the guy, but the crowd erupted in cheers. Frank returned to his spot, after getting shoved off of the guy, with a devious look on his face. He looked like he was searching the audience, and Gerard followed his gaze, wondering what he was looking for, until Frank's eyes fell on him and stopped. He smiled widely, and winked; Gerard felt his heart hiccup.

As the set continued, Gerard couldn't help but think of what the mirror version of Frank had said. Of how he had looked so tormented, that it made Gerard want to tear himself apart. He didn't want to hurt Frank, and so he made a quiet promise to protect him, no matter what.

Even if that meant from himself.


	6. Consequences

The band finished their set, and Frank immediately went to find Gerard, who was standing more towards the back, chatting happily with a girl who had pink tipped hair. She smiled at Frank, widely when he came back, and Gerard looked over, too. Frank couldn't help but notice his heart speed up a little, as Gerard grinned and said, "You were fucking incredible." 

The girl nodded in agreement, but Frank was still looking at Gerard. Studying how the green and purple stage lights were flashing across his face, making the angles of his cheekbones appear sharper, his dark hair hanging a little in his eyes. He looked tired, Frank realized, and a little distant. There were cuts on his face, Frank noticed and started to frown, but then Gerard cleared his throat and introduced him to the girl. "This is Ramona." He said.

Ramona was pretty, she had butterscotch blonde hair and deep brown eyes, that pulled you in close, that made you want to listen, to fall deep into the depths of whatever secret she was not telling you. She was smiling at him, but it slowly faded when Frank wasn't smiling back. She glanced, furtively, across the room, and then bit her lip, "The band will be on soon, I am gonna go find my friend." She looked back at Gerard, and placed a hand on his shoulder, it lingered there a little too long. Frank felt a pang of jealousy spark through his chest, as Gerard looked at her, endearingly.

"It was nice seeing you again." Gerard told her, in a voice that was so genuine it hurt. Frank cursed himself mentally, feeling guilty for being such a clingy fuck. It wasn't like he owned Gerard, they were just friends. Frank tried not to let his heart feel too bitter over that simple truth, but then Gerard said, "I've missed talking a lot, promise you'll visit soon."

Frank couldn't keep from rolling his eyes and saying, begrudgingly, "I need a drink." 

Gerard turned back towards him, and said, "Could you bring me a beer, as well?"

Frank promptly flipped him off. 

.

Ray was grinning from ear to ear, when Frank found him at the bar. He flung his arm out and held Frank in a death grip of a hug, his breath smelled like cheap whiskey, which made Frank giggle a little. "We're gonna get signed to Eyeball recooords!" He sung, off key and embarrassingly loud. Two girls looked over at them, and raised their eyebrows in mild disgust. Frank smiled back at them, unashamed of his friend's drunken good mood. 

The bartender passed Frank a beer, and then another, and then another. The world was blurring a bit at the edges, and he embraced the dulled feeling. "You really think we have a shot?" Frank finally asked, voice hopeful.

That was when Brian came up, chiming in, incredulously, "A shot? We have a guaran-fuckin'-teed place on their label, after tonight." He laughed, "I mean, did you see the crowd? They loved you guys!" He smiled at them, pridefully. The way a father would look at his son, after he just won a baseball game. It made Frank's heart ache a little less. He got up and gave Brian a hug, not knowing if it was because he loved the guy, or if it was the beer. Probably both.

After awhile, the main band came on, Frank was drunk, again. He screamed at the top of his lungs, even though he didn't know any of the words to any of the songs they played. He felt invincible, electric, like lightning had struck him and his bones were metallic rods. Nothing could go wrong.

Gerard finally showed back up, halfway through the show and laughed as Frank tried to pull him over to dance. "Dance with me, babe." He said in a theatrical voice. He twirled around Gerard, like he was a ballerina in the New York Ballet, except way less graceful and way more drunk, the other boy watched him with one raised eyebrow. "You know you want to!" He taunted.

"You're insane." Gerard giggled. The noise fluttered in Frank's chest, and made him feel almost high.

"No, just drunk." Frank smirked at him, slyly. The band finished the song, and dove straight into another, like a diver jumping into the deep end of the pool. This one was heavier, faster, almost desperate sounding. Frank kept dancing around him, studying the way Gerard's expression darkened a little, when Frank let his gaze linger for a bit too long on his lips. They looked soft, pink like flower petals.

"I can't dance." Gerard admitted finally, arms crossed over his chest. 

Frank leaned in closer, unfolding Gerard's arms, and settling them on his own hips. Gerard opened his mouth to protest, but Frank continued, and tilted Gerard's head up to meet his eyes, "It's easy, just fucking take a breath. Geez, you look like you're about to pass out." Frank teased. Gerard rolled his eyes, but returned a steady gaze to his face. "You just move your hips, like this." Frank said, rocking back and forth. He smirked a little, "Easy, right?"

Gerard let out a laugh, "You're awful. First you get me to come out of my house on a Friday night for the first time in... months." Gerard said, looking a bit astounded as he did, then, "Now you're getting me to dance." He shook his head, "I think you're terrible." He teased.

Frank laughed, "Terrible is a strong word." Although, he didn't disagree.

"Okay, dangerous. I think you're dangerous." Gerard corrected himself, his eyes drifting back towards Frank's lips, looking wistful and a little scared. Time had seemingly slowed down, the crowd around them was distant, as if in another world completely. 

"I think you're beautiful." Frank replied, they were so close. It felt like fire was dancing beneath his skin, he wanted to get closer, he was going to go crazy if he didn't. The invincible feeling had not left. It was the time to make bad decisions, consequences be damned! Frank leaned in and pressed his lips up against Gerard's. Gerard was tense at first, caught off guard by the kiss. For a moment, Frank was scared that he'd pull away.

Then, he seemed to melt into Frank, like chocolate. The kiss was frantic, and messy, Gerard opened his mouth a little to let Frank in, and let out a soft noise. Frank felt something in his gut pull, as Gerard let his hands roam from their places on Frank's hips, up his chest, as if trying to memorize everything about him in that moment. Frank's skin felt as if it were buzzing, under his touch, it was light, like the way he'd handle a paint brush.  Frank pressed into it, instinctively.

Then, Gerard stopped, pulling away too soon, leaving Frank feeling a bit lost. Misplaced. Gerard looked just as wild as Frank felt, his hair was disheveled and his cheeks were flushed, he wore a hurt expression. Frank felt guilt flood him instantly, wondering if had done something wrong. "I am sorry." Frank apologized quickly, taking a step away from him. "Fuck. I am an idiot. I am so sorry."

Gerard shook his head quickly, "No!" He said, too loudly, and cringed when he realized he had just basically yelled in Frank's face. "No.." He added again, softer, "It's my fault." He said, looking miserable.

Frank's brow furrowed in confusion, "How is it your fault?"  

"I should go." Was all Gerard said, backing away, but Frank caught him by the wrist, anchoring him there, to the bright lights and loud noise of the venue. Gerard's eyes looked pleading, and Frank realized he might be acting selfish, but he didn't care. He didn't want to leave it like this. "Frank." Gerard's voice cracked a little. "I can't do this." He continued, Frank tried to ignore the terrible sinking feeling in his chest. It felt as if he were at the bottom of the sea, the water crushing him from above.

"Why not?" Frank's voice sounded too bitter for his own liking, and he tried to stop what came out of his mouth next, but he couldn't, "Because of Ramona?" He pushed. Gerard's head flew up, his cheeks flushing a deep scarlet.

"She's my friend, asshole." Gerard replied, and then ripped his hand from Frank's grasp. "I am going home."

"Shit. I am sorry." Frank said, internally kicking himself, as Gerard pushed past him, he called after him, but it was no use. He didn't stop. He left Frank there, reality came crashing back to him, like a meteorite through a window. He cursed himself over and over, and hoped that maybe, Gerard would come back. They'd laugh it off, as if nothing had happened.

But there are just some things you can't come back from. Examples of those types of things being the following; telling someone you love them, jumping off buildings, emptying your bank account to buy an ungodly expensive pair of shoes, and kissing Gerard Way, drunkenly, as if trying to find salvation in his touch.

Frank went back to the bar, where he found Brian, sitting boredly. "What'd you fuck up this time?" He asked, nonchalantly.

Frank groaned, as he replied, "Everything."


	7. Mojo's Toys

After the show, Gerard had gone to the local toy store. The fluroescent lights burned his eyes, making his head ache with a dull pang. He rubbed his temples as he approached the sales counter, the teenage boy behind it looked bored as all hell. He was scratching at a scab on his arm, when Gerard cleared his throat. "Welcome to Mojo's Toys, how can I be of assistance?" He said, not looking up.

"You got any Ouija Boards?" Gerard asked, hopefully. The kid finally lifted his head, looking thoroughly interested now.

He smirked and studied Gerard for a second, and joked, "What? You tryna call a friend or somethin'?" 

Gerard scowled, "Do you have them or not, dude? I am in a hurry." He wasn't in a hurry. He had nowhere to be. But the longer he stayed out, the more he was aware that the town was coming to life, and its noise might swallow him whole at any second. Every time he let his mind stray, he saw Frank's face in a stranger's, until he rubbed his eyes, and realized Frank probably was at home, and probably hated him after the events from a few hours before.

The kid rolled his eyes, before pointing at the aisle on the far right. "Aisle 4." He said. 

Gerard nodded, "Thanks."

"You really shouldn't mess with that type of stuff, you know." He continued, "It's evil." For a second, he appeared deadly serious.

Gerard let out a bark of a laugh, "Yeah kid, I'll keep that in mind." he replied, and turned to go hunt down the board.

.

Gerard usually loved driving. Sometimes he'd take Mikey for long drives along the coast, where they'd scream to their favorite Misfit songs, and roll the windows down, and let the world spill into the car with them. Driving was relaxing. A way to get away, without really going anywhere. 

Tonight though, it was different. The car was too small to house all of Gerard's thoughts under its roof. The longer he drove, the more suffocated he felt. The street lamps painted everything in a sickly yellow color, and there was nowhere to hide from what had happened. Gerard could only see Frank painted between the two white lines of the road, how the band played and Frank moved in a way that sent a shiver up his spine. 

Gerard barely knew Frank, it freaked him out that he wanted so much more than what he actually deserved. Fear had trembled on Gerard's finger tips, when he had touched Frank, feeling a bit like a starving dog. He didn't want to stop, he wanted to forget what had happened before the show. Gerard wanted more. But then he remembered Frank's face, that face that looks so soft, so mischievous, but still somehow angelic. When he had opened his eyes during that kiss, he saw that face, and remembered all of the pain that he had seen before, in the same dark eyes.

It made him sick to his stomach. He had pulled back. He told himself that it was to protect Frank, but Frank still looked hurt after what Gerard had done.

Gerard let out a frustrated yell at the memory, smacking the steering wheel a few times and almost driving himself straight off the road, and over the cliff into the watery grave below. Gerard decided that maybe he should be paying more attention, but he couldn't help it. 

It hurt so bad.

.

Gerard chain smoked until 3 a.m. down in the kitchen, while trying to get SOMETHING to answer him on the board, and when Mikey came down to ask what he was doing, his brother had immediately scowled, "Why does it feel like fucking Antarctica down here?!" And rubbed his hands up and down his arms to try to warm himself. Mikey spotted the open windows, "You have got to be kidding me, why are all the windows open?"

Gerard had just mumbled from his spot in the middle of the floor, "They like it open."

Mikey grew still, "Who does?" In response, a crow landed on the windowsill, and startled him half to death. "Jesus! You have got to get some better fucking friends."

Gerard shrugged, "I have you." He flicked some cigarette ash onto a dish beside him, "We're friends."

Mikey shook his head, as he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of grey goose, "No, I am your brother."

"What's the difference?" Gerard replied.

Mikey was headed back upstairs, and threw his reponse over his shoulder, "The difference is that I am stuck with your bullshit."

.

The spirits were silent, and Gerard finally put out his last cigarette, and then promptly flipped the board over. "Fuck this!" He growled, and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, Mikey was right, it really was freezing in the room; Gerard could see his breath. He went to close the window, but the same crow landed there again, and pecked at his hand. Gerard let out a gasp, and yanked his hand away, "Motherfucker!" He cried out, and glared at the bird. The crows were much less pleasant than his seagulls, he missed them and their bread stealing antics. These assholes just liked to cause him pain. "What do you want?!" Gerard flung his hands up, frustrated.

He hadn't expected an answer, but he got one, anyways. "You called me." Replied a voice that seemed to be coming from the crow.

Gerard blinked several times, and would have wondered if he was high or drunk, but he had quit that bullshit a year ago, and had been stone sober ever since. So, either he was hearing things, or was actually losing his mind. Gerard feared it might be the latter. "Please tell me I am dreaming." He said, softly.

The crow ruffled its feathers, "You're awake, Gerard." Gerard let out a laugh, that sounded more like he was on the verge of tears.

"Of course I fucking am. Oh my god, I am going insane." Gerard was pulling at his hair, the crow regarded him curiously, allowing him to have a mini-breakdown, before finally recovering and asking, "How did I call you?" A frown on his face. The crow flew into the room, and landed on the discarded Ouija board. Gerard's mouth fell open. 

"You're worried." The crow said, its voice almost gentle, "You're going to make yourself sick, if you keep thinking like that." 

Gerard swallowed thickly, "I don't want to hurt him." He was surprised when his voice shook a little. "Tell me how to avoid whatever it is that turned him into... that thing." 

The crow squawked, "It's already been done." Gerard let out a choked sob, and put a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound, but his shoulders still shook against his own will. "There's no use in avoiding an end that is already final."

"Then, what do I do?!" Gerard pleaded.

The crow almost looked like it shrugged, but that couldn't be, because it was a fucking crow. It flew back to the windowsill, and there, perched in the moonlight it said, "Become a raindance in traffic."

.

Frank came around the next day to apologize. He had stayed up all night, and had only gotten about 30 minutes of sleep. It was 6 a.m., and it was slightly drizzling, thunder rumbling somewhere, distant. He had practiced what he was gonna say almost a thousand times, and had decided on something along the lines of, "Hey, I am sorry that I came on to you last night, like the drunk idiot I am. I didn't mean to destroy all hope for our friendship, but you just make me-"

"Stupid!" Frank said out loud, angry at himself all over again. He knew that he couldn't fix the past, no matter how many times he kicked himself, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. He was already at the lighthouse, more quickly than he would've liked. Although, if Frank had it his way, he would have buried himself by this point. 

He went up to the door, and found that it was left open. Frank frowned, and looked into the front room, "Hello?" He called.

"Sup." Mikey said, from right behind Frank. Frank nearly jumped right out of his skin.

"Holy fuck!" Frank yelped, and then turned bright red from either embarrassment or anger, he scowled at Mikey, who was wearing a shit-eating grin, "What are you trying to do?! Give me a fuckin' heart attack?" 

"Just making sure you're awake." Mikey replied.

"The hell are you even doing?" Frank asked, grumpily. "Besides scaring local residents with your A plus stalker skills."

"Stalker skills? I am not the one showing up at people's houses at 6 in the morning!" Mikey said, defensively. 

Frank wanted to protest, but he couldn't, "I just wanted to talk to Gerard." He said, sheepishly.

Mikey's eyes widened, "Are you the reason he's being so weird?" Frank stammered for a few moments, suddenly feeling guilty again, his stomach twisting into a knot. "I caught him downstairs, with a Ouija board, acting like he was straight from The Sixth Sense last night." He continued, "Which is weird. Even for him."

"Yeah, that's my fault." Was all Frank said. 

Mikey seemed unsurprised, "He's down on the beach." 


	8. Pomegranates

Frank looked down the cliff, towards the crashing waves below. This time, he realized, he didn't have an urge to jump. In fact, he was a little bit terrified of losing his balance on one of the rocks, a misplaced step could easily result in a broken neck. He was muttering under his breath, about how Gerard was crazy, and why on Earth would anyone want to risk their life just to get down to a stupid beach, when the water was freezing cold, anyways.

But then, he got to the bottom, and when he looked up at the rocky cliff face that loomed over him, something in his chest shifted. The rocks were dark grey, almost black, some say they were carved from obsidian. They made Frank feel infinitesimal, in the same way the stars did. His heart fluttered uncertainty in his chest, and his mouth was suddenly dry. He could've stood there all day, just looking up and letting the world fall on his shoulders, as if he were Atlas himself, but then a seagull squawked beside him and ripped him from his daydream. Frank startled, and the bird looked at him, expectantly. "Hi." Frank gave the bird a small wave, and it started to clean itself. Frank shook his head, and turned to look back out across the rocky beach, he didn't see any sign of Gerard, or anyone else for that matter.

For a second, Frank got a worrying knot in his stomach, that perhaps Gerard had gotten too close to the water, and had been snatched from the shore by a riptide. They were common, especially around this time of year. One time, a lady had drowned after going for a swim, because she had been pulled out by one, the coast guard found her body, swollen and stiff and blue, a week later.

Frank's heartbeat quickened as he imagined Gerard, swollen, stiff and blue. His rosy cheeks drained of color, his body floating in the dark ocean water, as if it were just another thing to be discarded. As if it didn't matter at all, that it was once Gerard. Frank was on the verge of having a panic attack, when a voice called out to him, "How'd you find me?!" Frank recognized it immediately. Gerard was standing not too far away, with an incredulous look on his face. Frank felt regret flooding his mind, but he made his way over to Gerard, anyway. He had to fix the mess he had made.

"Mikey told me you were here." Frank replied, and Gerard nodded. He looked exhausted, Frank realized, and the cuts he had noticed last night weren't just a trick of the light. They were real, angry and red, and deep. "What happened to your face?" He immediately cringed at his own bluntness.

Gerard's expression twisted, and he looked sad, again. Frank wondered what it could possibly be that he was hiding from him, his curiosity almost outweighed the guilt he felt. "It's a long story." Gerard finally said, with a long sigh. 

"I've got time." Frank responded, voice coaxing.

Gerard turned away from him, and Frank felt his heart drop for a moment, thinking that he was just going to walk away again. Instead, Gerard said, "Follow me. I have pomegranates and a beach blanket."

.

There was a small little alcove in the rocks, that was elevated enough so the waves didn't touch it. Gerard had laid down a bright pink beach blanket across the ground, and had a pair of binoculars, and a bag of pomegranate seeds. Frank couldn't help but smile widely when he saw it, Gerard had already sat down, and patted the space next to him on the blanket. Frank took it, and they sat there for a few awkward moments. "Listen, about last night, I really fucking sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-"

"It wasn't your fault, Frank." Gerard cut him off, but he wouldn't meet Frank's gaze. "I shouldn't have... been so reckless."

Ouch. That kind of stung. Frank felt himself flush, red creeping up his throat. He looked down at his hands, and let out a laugh, "So, you regret it?" Frank's voice sounded too small. The same feeling of insignificance that he had felt whilst looking up at the cliff, was creeping into his chest now. 

Gerard looked back at him, eyes wide, "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." Frank replied, without looking up at him. "It's okay. Now that I am here, I sorta do, too." He got up to leave, but Gerard caught his wrist. Frank wouldn't turn around and look at him, because if he did, he was afraid that the lump in his throat might turn into tears, and Frank didn't want to lose even more of his dignity.

"Frank, look at me." Gerard pleaded. Frank shook his head, but Gerard gently turned him around anyways. His eyes looked so soft, so warm, that it hurt. "I don't regret what happened, I wouldn't change a thing. I'd do it again if-"

"If what?!" Frank finally exclaimed, "What the hell happened, Gerard?! You talk and look as if you've seen a ghost!"

Gerard's face paled, and he let go of Frank as if he had been bitten. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He said, and he sounded like a kid, a little helpless and terrified.

Frank moved closer, and tilted his head so he met his eyes, "Try me." He pushed. 

Gerard's mouth flattened into a thin line, and he was quiet for a few moments, before giving in. "I went to the bathroom, and I saw an apparition of a girl, and she told me that I was cursed."

Frank frowned, he wasn't a superstitious person. He didn't believe in God, or angels, or devils, and much less ghosts. Glimpses of another world, and death spells, sounded a bit insane to him, but Gerard's voice shook. He sounded so honest, so vulnerable, that Frank couldn't properly call him a liar. "Gerard... you're not cursed. It was probably just your mind playing tricks on you." He tried to reason.

Gerard shook his head quickly, his eyes were wild, and desperate, "No, you don't understand. I saw you, too."

"I thought you said you were seeing ghosts??? I am not dead, and I was performing. You couldn't of seen me." Frank stammered, his heartbeat was starting to pick up, because he had the keen sense like this was all true. 

"No, you were different. You were hurt, and..." Gerard made a gesture with his hands, "Wrong." Gerard had tears in his eyes, and Frank ached to reach out and wipe away one of the tears that escaped down his cheek with his thumb. "That's not the worst part." Gerard admitted, so softly, that if he weren't careful, the noise from the crashing waves might've just swept the words away.

"What else did you see?" Frank breathed. Gerard shook his head, and ran his hands through his hair, as if trying to forcefully make himself forget, Frank caught his wrists, and pulled them away, and said, "Tell me."

Gerard swallowed thickly, "You said that I was the one that hurt you. That it was my fault." He said, and there was a silence that filled the space between them. Frank studied Gerard, he was so kind, so beautiful, Frank doubted that he could harm anyone. "I don't want to hurt you, Frank." 

"You won't." Frank replied, firmly. "And I wouldn't mind if you did, anyways." He gave Gerard a sly smirk.

Gerard let out a heavy chuckle, "You didn't see what I saw."

Frank scrunched up his nose, "I don't have to. Gerard, I don't care if being around you gets me hurt, or killed, or something in between." Frank said, his voice raising. "My whole life is shit, besides when I am playing in my band, and when I am with you." Frank's said, shakily, "You make sense to me, don't you get that? You're easy, in a way that so many other things aren't." 

Gerard's eyes were glossy, from tears, and he looked up at Frank, with a look that was both hopeful and miserable. "I can't live with that type of guilt. I can't." He was starting to withdraw again, but Frank leaned back, flinging his arms out.

"Do I look hurt? I am here, Gerard. I am alive. I am not going anywhere, whatever it is that happens, it will never be your fault." 

Gerard sniffled, and wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve, looking out at the ocean in front of them. "Sometimes I think I crush things in my attempt to save them." Gerard looked so sorrowful, Frank could hardly look at him.

Frank leaned in, and touched one of the cuts that was just above his eyebrow, Gerard let out a soft hum. "Then, please don't try to save me." Frank replied, and then pressed his lips against Gerard's. 

This time it was slower, less frantic than the other kiss had been. Frank's hands traced the outline of Gerard's jaw, and then tangled up in his hair. Their lips moved slow, almost like a song, like a symphony tuning itself, into a perfect pitch. Frank smiled against the kiss. Gerard lips' tasted sweet, like pomegranates. 

Frank finally pulled away, and Gerard looked wistful. "What is it?" Frank asked.

"Maybe you're worth the ghostly wrath afterall." Gerard teased.

Frank couldn't help but roll his eyes, and laugh.


	9. Pet Sematary

Ray Toro: bitchin' guitarist, and mad genius. Most people only know about the guitar part though, and that Ray has been volunteering at the local nursing home, ever since he was 14. He's learned how to knit, and is pretty gifted at chess for a 19 year old. Not to brag or anything.

Ray always has had a fascination with the afterlife. When he was a kid, he used to lay on his back and look up, and let the universe pour into his chest cavity. He wondered if he'd ever live to see the day that humans met God, if there was one, and if there wasn't, then what did that make them? Could science be divine in it's own right? Ray wanted to know. 

The magical thing about the universe is that there is one common thing that everyone accepts about it. Scientists, non-scientists, atheists, Christians, Buddhists, rich people, poor people, alive people, dead people: and that is, is that the Universe is absolute bullshit.

Anything is possible, our horizon is only just a tiny speck on the horizon of millions of others. We are infinitesimal. We don't matter.

That thought worries a lot of people, but Ray finds it absolutely liberating. 

Ray carried out most of his science experiments in his grandma's basement. This resulted in a freak firework incident, where Ray almost burned the entire house down, and the one time he bombed the house with a homemade microwave. He was pretty unsuccessful in his scientific endeavors, and wondered if he was truly choosing the right path for a 15 year old high school student. He was incredibly close to throwing in the fowl and giving up.

Then, there was the storm. They called it a world destroyer, it toppled power lines, and snapped trees like twigs, the wind carried away anything that dared step out into it. Ray had been on the bus, and the rain on the roof made it sound as if the entire world was ending. You could hardly see out the windows, the town was made out of watercolors that had been drowned too many times. All of the lines running together to form a muddled puddle of grey. 

It was the lightning though, that was truly the most spectacular thing. It arced over the sky in blinding veins, and when the thunder sounded, it rattled the ground and the houses as if a giant beast were waking in the Earth below them. The storm lasted days, and the lightning only seemed to get stronger with every passing minute, almost as if challenging someone to possess her power, to channel it into something great. Ray could feel potential buzzing on his finger tips.

School had continued as normal, a younger Mikey Way was Ray's biology lab partner. Mikey, was squeamish and timid, and always wore his glasses on the very tip of his nose, Ray had commented on this once by saying, "Why don't you just push them up? Don't you get sick of them always hanging like that?"

And Mikey had peered down his nose at him, with a frown, saying, "Because they're cooler like this." Ray would've laughed if it were anybody else, but Mikey was different. So, instead, they sat together at lunch and Mikey did Ray's English homework, while Ray did Mikey's science homework. Ray would share his twinkies with Mikey, and in turn, Mikey would bring all sorts of rare comics that he stole from his older brother. They were a machine.

They were having a lab during the storm, they had lost power somewhere around lunch, and it plunged them into a scene straight from a noir film. Lightning flashes created stark shadows against everyone's cheekbones, making them look more drawn. The shadows that were casted on the walls seemed to shift, and dance, like smoke. It was unnerving. 

The teacher cleared her throat from the front of the room, "Look to the trays in front of you, for today's project. You will be asked to correctly identify at least 5 organs in your specimen. Anyone who has any complaints, will be forced to write a 10 page essay."

Mikey groaned, as he stared at the poor creature in disgust, "This is just inhumane." A lot of the other kids wore the same expression, but not Ray. Ray's fingers were itching to take a closer look, something in him was telling him that this was important, this dead frog had something to offer him that meant more than a perfect grade card. 

Ray slid on some plastic gloves, they made a loud suction noise as they stuck to his skin. Mikey cringed at the sound, looking up at the ceiling, "Hey God, is that you? It's me Mikey, I am just asking what did I do in a past life to deserve such a cruel and unjust punishment that is high school?"

Ray laughed, and pointed at a scalpel across from Mikey, "Quit being such a drama queen, it's just a dead frog."

Mikey sighed, and handed Ray the metal object, "And I only wished that that was the worst thing I have ever heard inside of this hellish, mandatory prison."

.

After the lab, the class filed out, all eager to go to the bathrooms and wash their hands off, and rid their conscious of what had just taken place in the science room. Ray stayed behind, watching to make sure that he wasn't being followed, and when he was certain that he was all alone, he bolted for the supply closet.

Earlier, during the lab, Ray had gotten a funny idea into his head, it had crept in like most terrible decisions do, where they totally take the wheel and demand to be acted upon. Like some kid that wants to see a R rated movie, that will surely scar them for the rest of their lives.

There was a particularly strong bolt of lightning, and one of the boys in class had been standing close to the window. The bolt had electricuted him, and he had jumped about 4 ft into the air, his hand shaking violently. Everyone had laughed, even though the room smelled like burnt hair for the rest of the period, but Ray couldn't stop imagining the energy that was surging through his muscles and tendons when the bolt had struck him, and when he looked back down at his frog, that was when it happened.

Ray wanted to reanimate the corpse, using lightning.

During class, watched as the teacher slipped in and out of the supply closet, there was a refrigerator in there, where they kept things like the frogs. Surely, there were extras. Since Ray didn't want to acquire a dead frog by other means, he decided he could just steal one from there. 

So, there he was, in the supply closet, he spotted the fridge and yanked open the door to the deep freeze. Sure enough, there were the frogs. He carefully picked one up, and then stared at it in his hands for several seconds, blinking wildly, Ray suddenly realized that he hadn't expected to get this far, as the frog fluids oozed onto his palms and dripped onto the tile below. 

That was when Ray heard Mikey, coming back for him, "Shit!" Ray exclaimed and fumbled with the frog, he looked from his hands to his bag, and realized he had no choice but to just dump it in, unprotected. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Abuela is gonna kill me, holy shit!" He said, mostly to himself. When he looked back up, Mikey was staring at him with one eyebrow lifted.

"What are you still doing here?" Mikey asked, without looking up from Ray's backpack that was sitting at his feet.

Ray quickly zipped up his bag, and slung it on his shoulder, "Just cleaning up. I had some left over tools from the lab, that I had to wash."

"In the supply closet? Dude, there isn't even a sink in here." Mikey frowned, and then added, "Also, I put all of our tools up. Unless if you shoved some up your ass, is that where you're pulling all these lies from, too?"

Ray blinked at Mikey for several more seconds, before letting out a frustrated sigh, and dropping his bag, opening the zipper and shoving it into Mikey's face for him to see.

Mikey squinted at the contents for a few moments, and his expression went from astonished, to disgusted, to absolutely hysterical. He shoved the bag back into Ray's chest, jumping back, as if he expected the frog to hop out and attach itself to his face. Which, was impossible, considering the frog was dead and all. "Why the actual fuck do you have that shit in your bag?!"

Ray gave him a sheepish grin, "I am obviously reinacting Princess And The Frog." He reached in and pulled the frog out, holding it up to his face, "Don't we make a lovely couple?"

Mikey scowled, "That's absolutely disgusting! That thing could have diseases! You could get worms, and die!" 

Ray rolled his eyes, "Mikey, dude, I don't think that is how worms work." He said, as he put the frog back. "Follow me, I'll tell you all about my plan, on the way back to my place."

"But... I-It's the middle of a school day." Mikey stammered.

"Mrs. Milligan won't miss us." Ray replied, nonchalantly.

There was another crash of thunder, and Mikey looked over at the window nervously, "And it's downpouring."

"Then, I hope you brought your umbrella." Ray smirked.

 

.

When Ray explained his plan to Mikey, he thought he was bluffing, it was only until he found himself in Ray's shed in his grandma's backyard, holding a dead frog and a wad of tinfoil, that Mikey started to wonder if Ray might just be crazy. If Ray was crazy, did that make Mikey crazier for following along with his dubious plan? Maybe so, Mikey didn't really want the answer to that.

Ray had tediously spent the better half of an hour, tying metal clothes hangers together, after connecting them to the lightning rod on the roof. There were hundreds of them, coming from all directions, that all led to one metal table in the middle of the shed. Mikey wondered where the fuck Ray got all of the clothes hangers, but then realized that maybe that shouldn't be his biggest concern right now. 

"You got the specimen?" Ray said, in an important voice. His hair was even bigger than usual, and he truly looked like he was straight out of a Tim Burton film.

"It's a dead frog, dude. Just call it a fucking dead frog." Mikey begged. He handed the "specimen" over anyways, and Ray placed in gingerly on the table. He stopped, and looked back over at Mikey, with an awkward expression on his face. "What now?"

"We wait, I guess." Ray shrugged.

Mikey face palmed, and shook his head in his hands. He turned around and dug into his backpack for his camera. Mikey wanted pictures of this, and so he quickly started to snap one after another. Mostly to cure his own boredom and fidgeting hands. Ray was staring intently at the table, tapping his foot impatiently. Mikey took a flash picture of him, and Ray scowled, pushing him away, "I am thinking!"

"And I am trying to work on a collage-" Mikey began, but then it happened. 

The hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up, and when he brushed up against the door, it zapped him. He gasped, and looked at Ray, wide eyed. "What's going on?!" His voice sounded too tinny and high for his own liking.

Ray had a somewhat crazed smile on his face, as he said, "boom!"

And just like that, a bolt of lightning rattled the shed, sending Mikey toppling over to his knees, like a human Jenga game. The sky erupted in a monstrous roar of thunder, and there was a humming noise that traveled through the air that seemed to be coming from everywhere, it rattled in his ears, before letting out a Pop! And vanishing into thin air.

The chaos was gone as abruptly as it had started. Neither of the boys said anything for several seconds, too shocked to make a coherent thought. Then, Ray jumped to his feet and scrambled to the table. He was out of breath, and dishelved, and looked like an absolute lunatic.

Mikey got up to join him, and looked down at the frog. It hadn't moved, Ray let spiteful curse, and slammed the table, "Fuck!"

As soon as his palm hit the metal, the frog shook violently. It was almost painful to watch, Mikey felt his stomach turn a little, as the frog bent in an unnatural way, shaking a few more seconds before finally becoming still again. "Is it... dead?" Mikey asked, cautiously.

As if in response, the frog let out a croak, and hopped out of the tray, straight onto the floor and out the shed doors. Mikey and Ray both stared in disbelief, "Holy motherfucking shit, you fucking did it." Mikey said, smacking a hand against his forehead. "You're a fucking genius!"

Ray just stared, open mouthed for a few more moments, before finally saying, softly, "Go get your turtle."

.

Mikey and Ray never spoke of this moment again. At first Mikey had questioned the ethical consequences that came with resurrecting dead things, but ultimately, Mikey saw nothing inherently evil in the things Ray brought back to life. They were just more stiff, and kind of unsettling if you looked at them too long.

Mikey's pet turtle had died a few months ago, and Ray had brought it back. He was sitting in the terrarium once more beside Mikey's bedside, when his mom came in to say goodnight, she frowned at the animal, "Did Gerard take you to the pet store?" She asked.

Mikey felt his heart speed up, as he lied, "Yeah, it was an early birthday present." 

"It looks so much like the old one." His mother narrowed her eyes, staring at the turtle, too closely for Mikey's comfort.

He quickly turned his lamplight off, and cleared his throat, signaling that it was time for her to leave, "Goodnight, mom."

Mikey stared up at his ceiling, and wondered if there was truly a way to cheat death. Like a video game hack, to get unlimited lives.

And what exactly, would that cost? An unsettling stone fell into his chest, as he drifted off to sleep, because he was quite certain, it came at the price of your

humanity.


	10. Twister

Frank showed up at Gerard's doorstep for the 3rd time that week, he had a guitar case on his shoulder, his hair was rumpled as if he had just rolled out of bed, even though it was 1 p.m. on a Wednesday, and he was wearing a jean jacket with too many pins to count. Gerard grinned as Frank let himself in, "The life of the party has arrived." He proclaimed, letting in a gust of wind behind him.

It had been blustering for the past couple of days, leaves from the trees were scattered everywhere as a result of mother nature's spiteful rage. Gerard's hair was a mess, because of this reason, too. The wind that rushed in blew some of the papers off of the wall, that Gerard had stuck to it with tape. Frank's eyebrows raised up so high that they almost met his hairline, when he noticed the scene. The image that was laid before him was of a flock of crows, their wings jet black against the grey-water color background. Gerard had gotten the urge to draw them late last night, and hadn't stopped ever since. "You're just in time!" Gerard exclaimed, and grabbed Frank by the arm. 

Frank was still sort of gauking at the wall, as Gerard dragged him up the stairs. "What exactly am I in time for?!" Frank asked, but Gerard didn't supply a straight answer, not until they were at the top of the lighthouse. The wind up there was even stronger and went straight through Gerard's jacket, Frank shivered, "Shit, it's like ten degrees colder up here!" Frank cursed.

Gerard ran to the other side of the small circular railing, and grabbed his pair of binoculars that he had left, discarded from earlier. Patiently waiting for Gerard to pick then back up, again. Gerard handed them to Frank, leaning in close to him. He was warm, and smelled sort of like chocolate and cigarette smoke, today. Frank lifted the binoculars up with a questioning look, "What am I supposed to look for?" 

Gerard smiled, and his breath was warm against Frank's neck, as he pointed out towards the dark sea that was swelling, white crests tipping the waves like a painting. "Whales pass through here, usually you can catch them, if you know where to look." Gerard explained.

They stood there for awhile, huddled together on the roof, Gerard wrapped around Frank, the wind wasn't so bothersome when they were so close. Gerard shut his eyes and rested his chin on Frank's head, Frank was still looking out at the harbor through the binoculars, and was rambling about how he had watched a Discovery show one time about the migration patterns of whales, and had wanted to see one in real life since he was 7. He sounded giddy, like a kid on Christmas. Gerard smiled to himself, Frank's voice was relaxing, in the same way the sound of waves that lapped onto shore were relaxing.

It took awhile, and Gerard was almost scared that the whales wouldn't show, when suddenly, Frank gasped and shook Gerard, excitedly, "I think I see one!" He exclaimed with a crooked smile. 

Gerard looked out, and then let out a holler, "Fuck yeah, it's shamoo!" He said, leaning out against the railing and lifting his hands up towards the sky. The wind clawed at his jacket, threatening to pick him up and carry him out into the pale blue sky, but it didn't. Frank still had a careful hold on Gerard's jacket, he realized.

Frank was laughing, but had a cautious look on his face, "Careful, don't fly away on me." He warned. 

Gerard stepped back from the railing, there was a warm feeling in his chest, despite the biting wind, "I am not going anywhere." He reassured Frank.

Frank returned his gaze to the whales, and asked, "So? Do you think they're humpbacks? Oh, man, that'd be so cool." He continued to talk, and for once, Gerard felt safe.

.

Frank kept showing up, they had worked out a routine. Frank would bring his guitar case and he'd strum and play Bouncing Souls, or something he made up. Gerard would paint, until the sun fell into the ground. They'd chat, quietly, and sometimes Gerard would sing along to Frank's songs. Frank would watch him draw, and would run his fingers tentively over the lines on the paper, his mouth slightly parted in awe. They'd drink too much coffee, because Gerard couldn't have beer, and they'd exist together. In a sweet and soft way, that made Gerard's chest ache.

It was Saturday, the sun was setting, and the sky was bathed in golds, and mauves, as if wearing its finest jewels to dance in before night set in. Frank had left hours ago, but there was a knock on the door that startled Gerard from his work. He went to answer it, expecting to see Mikey, so he said, "Hey, did you tell mom that she-"  
He stopped mid-sentence once he looked up and saw that it was Frank. His eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights, and he looked like a glass pane, spiderwebbing. "Frank?" Gerard breathed, and reached out to pull him in, out of the cold and into his arms.

"I need a place to stay for tonight." Frank mumbled, into Gerard's shoulder. 

Although Frank didn't elaborate much on his home life to Gerard, Gerard knew that it wasn't great, and that Frank's dad was a giant asshole. Every time he thought about it, his vision turned red and he wanted to find Frank's asshole of a father and punch him in the jaw. But Frank always assured him that he was fine, he was always fine. Even when he couldn't go home, even now, he said -

"I am fine. I just... " he trailed off, his eyes distant, unfocused, as if trying to find something that he lost a long time ago.

Gerard placed a kiss on his forehead, "Stay as long as you need."

.

Mikey had eventually showed up around 11 p.m., wearing a Hawaiian floral shirt, and carrying a game of twister. Frank looked up from where he was sitting, and said, "You better not be expecting this to turn into family game night." He nodded towards the box.

Mikey took his sunglasses off, and hung them on the collar of his shirt, "Of course not, gents. I'd obviously win, and that wouldn't be much of a game, if there is no contest." He taunted.

Frank and Gerard shared a contemplative look, before Gerard nodded, "Set out the mat." He ordered.

Frank shook his head, and went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, "I am too unbelievably sober for this." 

Mikey wore a victorious smirk.

.

The game ended when Frank "accidentally" knocked Mikey over, Gerard had been diplomatically calling the colors out, whilst Frank cursed and determinedly tried to beat Mikey and his ridiculously long limbs. Frank was stretching like a yoga guru, sweating like a motherfucker. While Mikey seemed almost at peace, much to Frank's dismay.

"Left arm, green." Gerard called. 

"Fuck!" Frank cursed, it was all the way across the mat.

"You can tap out now, Iero." Mikey flaunted.

"Oh, fuck you." Frank grimaced, and moved his hand to the green. He wobbled worryingly. Gerard was doing a poor job of hiding a grin behind the spinner board. Frank was about to say something regrettable, when he noticed that he was right next to Mikey's stabilizing hand. He got a mischievious idea in his head. When Gerard wasn't looking, he pushed the younger Way over. Mikey toppled to the ground in a thud that was worthy of a Godzilla-esque movie.

"You cheated!" Mikey exclaimed.

"I did no such thing." Frank said, raising his nose up and taking a sip from his beer. "I am simply doing God's work."

"Liar." Mikey accused.

Frank picked up the box that held the game and threw it at Mikey's chest, "Masochist!" He laughed.

It was about 2 a.m., and Frank realized that his heart wasn't so heavy like it usually was at this time of night. He laughed along with the two of them, and got distracted when Gerard's eyes lingered too long on him. His heart fluttered, as if he were back in grade school, maybe it was the alcohol, but he felt like he was on fire.

"I am tired." Frank finally said, but he wasn't.

"Oh, well, there is a bed upstairs-" Gerard began.

"Yeah, that's perfect." Frank said, and got up and pulled on Gerard's shirt sleeve. "You're coming with me."

Gerard got the idea rather quickly, and looked over at his brother. Mikey was doing a great job of pretending like he didn't know anyone in the room, as he carefully studied his fingernails that were black and chipped. Gerard got up, and let Frank pull him up the stairs, when they were halfway up, Mikey called, "You kids have fun!"

"Fuck off!" Frank and Gerard both replied in unison, and giggled right after.

.

When they got to the room, they both paused in an anxious quiet, there was a small lamp on, and it casted dark shadows against Frank's face, Frank, who always looked so sure about everything, almost seemed timid in this lighting. Gerard still could see the image of the mirror Frank hovering over Frank's features, like a second skin. It made his gut twist, and it must've shown on his face, because Frank got closer and brushed a strand of dark hair from Gerard's forehead. "You seem scared, we don't have to, if you don't want to."

Gerard didn't want to make it seem like he didn't want to, because he did. It's not like he hadn't pictured Frank, sometimes when he was in the shower, or before bed, or everywhere, to make the list short. Images of him flashing against his eyelids, hungry and desperate and beautiful. And here he was, and it should feel perfect, like a wish granted, but something was off about it.

Gerard pushed the feeling aside, and took Frank's hand and kissed his knuckles. He had several tattoos on his hands, and they made Gerard's head spin just thinking about them, he pushed Frank against the wall, and Frank let out a quiet gasp. The gnawing feeling that this was all wrong wouldn't leave Gerard alone, and the louder it got, the more he pressed himself against Frank to get it to shut up. Frank was starting to notice, because he pushed Gerard back, his cheeks were flushed and he looked like he had just stumbled out of a hazey daydream, and it made Gerard love him so much more. "You're shaking." Frank said, his voice sounded raw.

Gerard shook his head, "I am okay, Frank." He said, and placed a kiss under his ear, Frank let out a breath, and looked like he wanted more, but he put a hand to Gerard's cheek to stop him from doing anything else.

"You're a shitty liar, Gerard." Frank almost laughed.

Gerard groaned, and ran a hand through his hair. "I am still seeing ghosts." He whispered, and Frank's face fell. 

"I know, I know." Frank replied, softly, and pulled Gerard over to the bed by the wrist. Frank fell back against it, with a huff, and Gerard flopped down next to him. "We're both messes, aren't we?" Frank chuckled. "My dad hates me, and you see dead people. What a pair!" He joked.

Gerard smiled to himself, "We're absolutely tragic." He admitted.

Frank snorted, and they giggled together for a little bit. The ceiling fan was giving off a hum, as it shook a little. Gerard turned so that he was on his side, looking over at Frank, "You know, I want to." He said, quietly.

Frank seemed to contemplate this for a minute, before curling up beside Gerard, pressing their foreheads together and sighing, "This is all I need." Frank replied, and his voice was heavy with sleep. It must've been really late, the moon was already crawling its way back to bed. The stars gleaming overhead, like silver coins in a wishing well. Before Gerard knew it, Frank was asleep, Gerard ran his fingers through his hair, studying the way Frank looked so gentle when he was sleeping. Less angry, less tired, he looked almost peaceful. His eyelashes fanned out against his cheekbones, they fluttered from time to time, as he dreamed.

Gerard didn't know when he fell asleep, or if he ever did, his mind was racing at a million miles per minute, it felt like he was a rocket, leaving Earth's atmosphere. But, everytime he lingered too far for his own liking, Frank was right there, solid and real and lovely, smelling of sleep and chocolate. He held Gerard back from the vortex of his brain, like a rope, like a sense of gravity.


	11. Preach To The Choir

Frank had woken up in a daze, panic flooded his chest, as he tried to remember where he was. His eyes snapped open and reached out, only to find that there was something holding on to him. For a moment, he was confused, until he remembered last night and Gerard, and something in his heart tugged at the memory of it. It was morning. There was a seagull perched on the open window, watching him with interest. Frank couldn't help but laugh to himself, Gerard had to be feeding those birds his entire pantry, to keep them coming back so much. 

But of course, Gerard would. Because he cared. Stupidly, stubbornly, genuinely, he cared. And there was something to be said about that, but Frank had already slipped back off into sleep, before he could figure out what it was.

.

Frank woke up around noon, only to find his phone bombarded with an ungodly number of calls and texts from Ray. He groaned into his coffee mug, Gerard looked up, curiously from his canvas. "What is it?" He asked, concern marking his features.

"The anti-christ, coming to kick my ass." Frank sighed, as the phone rang.

Ray practically picked up on the first ring. By the sound of his voice, Frank could tell he was so stressed, he might as well of shoved a stick up his ass. "Frank, we're in deep shit. Where the fuck are you?"

"What is it now, Toro?" Frank asked. Frank wasn't really worried, the last time Ray called him with a world ending situation, it was because they took Star Trek off of Netflix. 

"Well, Pedicone quit, and so now, we have a gig tonight, and no lead singer." Ray growled, there was yelling in the background, that was unmistakably the rest of the guys. Frank felt dread creeping up in his stomach, Pedicone was a total ass, that stole everyone's shit, showed up late to every performance, and was a cocky son of a bitch to top it all off. He wasn't even the best singer, but at least he was something. They had their concert with the agent from Eyeball that weekend, how the fuck were they gonna find another singer in that amount of time?!

Frank pinched the bridge of his nose, trying hard not to throw his phone at the wall, just to get rid of the burning feeling in his hands, that was telling him that he desperately needed to break something. "So, what's the plan? You're the play maker, Ray." Frank sighed.

Ray, was at a loss for words, for a few moments. He groaned, "There is no plan, not right now at least." Frank could see Ray shaking his head on the other end, "We're fucked, basically. Unless if you have any ideas."

Frank, didn't have any ideas. Not the slightest, his mind was completely blank. 

Then, there was a crash from across the room. Frank's head snapped up, to see that a seagull had flown in, and knocked over Gerard's canvas. Gerard was spitting curses, as he futilly tried to save his work. The bird flew back out, with one of the paint brushes clutched in his beak. Gerard promptly shut the window, and turned back to Frank, raking a hand through his dark hair with a scowl on his face. "One of these days, some kid is gonna stumble upon a bird's nest full of my long lost paint brushes, and I'll stop having to buy new ones every weekend."

"Or you could just keep the window closed." Frank supplied. Gerard's frown deepened at the remark, which meant that Frank was right.

That was when it struck Frank, Ray was still arguing with someone on the other end of the phone, but his voice was drowned out. Frank thought about Gerard, and his voice, his wonderful fucking voice. The answer to their problem was standing right in front of him.

Gerard raised an eyebrow, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Frank grinned, stupidly, like a kid that had just received a full sized candy bar on Halloween, he spoke into the phone, "Ray, I think I found our new frontman."

.

"No, you don't understand, I've never sung in front of anyone before." Gerard was wringing his hands nervously, Frank felt bad for forcing him into this, but he was desperate.

"You've sung in front of me, before." Frank replied, with an encouraging smile.

Gerard let out a nervous laugh, "That's different! You're different, Frank! This is a room full of people, and I haven't even had one practice with your band! What if I suck?" Gerard was talking quickly now, gesturing wildly with his hands, as if trying to conduct an invisible orchestra.

Frank grabbed him by the shoulders, to stop him from pacing a rut into the fucking floor. "It is no different. You know the songs, we've been singing them together for the past week." That part was true, Frank had shown Gerard most of the songs on the their set. Gerard had loved it, and had memorized practically all of them by the third day.

Gerard gave Frank a doubtful look, Frank smiled back at him slyly, "Besides, it's a punk rock show, the kids could care less what you sound like. They just want something to riot about."

Gerard sighed, looking down at the ground and then back up at Frank, "I don't want to mess this up for you guys."

Frank shrugged, and lit a cigarette, handing one to Gerard, who took it greedily. Frank smirked around the cigarette, "You can't break something that's already broke, babe."

Gerard laughed a little, "Then, you've never met me."

.

Gerard Way had always been invisible. It was his superpower, and also his curse. At school he'd always walk the halls like a ghost, and it suited him. He liked never having to justify his existencs to anyone, because to most people, he didn't exist in the first place.

When he got older, he moved to the lighthouse, and had been spending the past 6 years as a phantom, more of a local tale than an actual person. Some days he doubted he was even alive, and it made his fingers itch. It was the same itch and aching need that was coursing through his veins now, as he stood backstage, chain smoking. Trying to calm his nerves, even though he was pretty sure a tranquilizer meant for an elephant couldn't even relax his racing mind, right then.

Gerard kept imagining being onstage, in front of all of those people. They'd see him, he'd no longer be invisible, there'd be no place to hide. And that terrified him to no end,

but it also felt exhilarating.

Brian came up to him, a curious look on his face, "So, you're the guy who's gonna save our asses?" 

Gerard took a drag off of his cigarette, "Something like that."

Brian laughed, the usual frown on his face disappearing. He looked so young, Gerard almost wanted to take a picture of him, with his laughter lines and all, "This band is all we've got, it's sort of ridiculous." Brian scratched his neck, massaging a knot, "My dad always told me to have a backup, but there's no magic in accounting." 

Gerard smiled a little, trying to imagine Brian behind a desk, crunching numbers in a suit, and all. It was next to impossible. Even though Brian seemed to be in a constant state of stress because of the band, he seemed to love it anyways. It was baffling. It made Gerard ask, "What's so special about this band, anyways?" Gerard had been watching kids file in for the past 6 hours, all of them giddy with wide grins on their faces. It was contagious. It made Gerard want to do something, it made him want to be someone, if only to keep that same sense of endless fire burning in his chest. 

Brian shrugged, and said simply, "It'll save your life."

Although it was a pretty bold claim, by the looks of the crowd, and the image of Brian as an accountant, and Frank rolling and spinning around onstage as if his life depended on it, and Ray's impossible riffs screaming like an ambulance, all playing in Gerard's mind, he couldn't doubt that statement for a second.

.

The problem with spotlights is that they require someone to stand under them and be known. The idea of being anyone was mortifying to Gerard. But, as he looked over at Frank, he remembered the kiss that he had given him before they went onstage. A secret, pressed behind his ear, after Frank had whispered, "You got this." Frank was currently watching Gerard with a careful, but trusting glance, Gerard realized something.

In order to be loved, and to be human at all, you must be known. And that thought is as terrifying as all of the black holes in space combined, more horrific than death, because even when you're dead, all that is left behind are bones. And all bones look the same. They're all nameless without the tags that are put on their graves, they were all once something. They don't have to waste their time hiding from their own noise anymore.

The horrifying art of being known is that that means you are a person. Undeniably, relentlessly, you are real. People can look at you, the way the crowd was staring at Gerard with eager, open eyes now. Their expressions like beggar's palms, begging for a shred of hope, begging for a light after years of dark.

Being known, means people can either love or hate you.

Gerard stole one more glance at Frank, who smiled at him reassuringly, even though he looked somewhat terrified himself. Gerard realized that even without the spotlight, he was not nameless anymore. He had Frank. 

Gerard took a breath, he was ready. He signaled to Ray, and the guitar came screaming into the first song like a car without brakes, the bass like an underlying current that tugged in his stomach, the drums providing the heartbeat. 

And then, Gerard opened up his mouth, and sang.

.

The room exploded, Gerard was surprised that he knew what to do, the kids screamed the lyrics along with him. It caught him off guard at first, the guitars felt as if they were tail spinning through a car crash, dizzying and frantic, like a man on the edge of insanity. Gerard gripped the microphone tighter, the louder the music got, the more he slipped into it, like a costume, like a superhero identity. Pretty soon, he felt so much bigger than himself, as if his soul had grown 10 sizes, and was bursting out of his body.

He sung to the crowd, like a preacher, and they devoured his words as if they were the gospel. Frank danced across the stage like he had electricity coursing through his veins, he dove onto the floor underneath Gerard, his fingers still flying over the frets, effortlessly. His back arched up off the floor, as if he were either in ecstasy or if he were receiving an exorcism. Either way, it was a turn on. 

"Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts!" Gerard sang into the mic, his voice getting more and more desperate and almost manic, as the song came to an end, Frank stood back up and screamed into the mic with him, "Think haaaaaaa" they finished, the song sounded like something you'd laugh at yourself in the mirror while drunk, and wishing you were dead, and not giving a single shit about it. As if life were a joke, and the song was a middle finger at god.

At the end, Frank grabbed Gerard's face and licked the entire side of it. The crowd erupted in hollers and whistles, and Frank ran back to his spot, casting a devilish look back at Gerard every now and then. Gerard was on cloud nine.

He saw Ray, who smiled at him happily. Gerard turned to find Mikey, who hadn't moved much from his spot, but still managed to effortlessly pull off a whole "I am a cool ass motherfucker" vibe. Mikey nodded at his older brother, proudly. 

And it shouldn't have gone so perfectly well, but as the set came to a roaring pause, Gerard realized that they had survived, not only that, they had thrived. Whatever it was that they had with that band, it was special.

The set ended, Gerard stared back out at the crowd one last time, letting himself be seen, before the spotlights flicked off, and he was Just Gerard, once again.


	12. Childhood

After the show, they had gone out and gotten burgers and milkshakes at the local diner. The neon pink and lime green colors splashed against the grey skies, reminded Frank of something out of a comic book. His arm was hung around Gerard's shoulder, and they were all talking excitedly about how amazing the concert had been.

And it had been amazing. Frank knew Gerard could sing, but he didn't know he could perform, too. The way his voice unfolded over the crowd, like a spell, was like magic. Gerard's voice didn't try to compete with the guitars, it just melted in with it. He pulled no punches with his voice, it was as if he were the ringleader that the band had been searching for the entire time. Frank smiled thinking about it, as he shoveled french fries into his mouth. The fries were salty and just the right amount of soft and crisp, if heaven had a taste, it'd be this. Or maybe everything just tasted better when you were high off of euphoria.

Ray was beaming, at Gerard, "Where have you been all of our lives, man?!" The guy practically looked like he was about to burst into tears, he was so excited.

"Hey dude, don't choke on your onion rings." Frank teased.

Ray couldn't even scowl at Frank, he was so elated. "He's been hiding like a hermit up in his lighthouse." Mikey said, and took a sip from his seltzer. Gerard punched his brother in the arm, Mikey shook his head, "I am just trying to tell the truth."

"Well, I am glad Pedicone quit, because now we have you." Ray laughed. Bob nodded approvingly beside him.

Gerard stopped drinking his cherry milkshake, and almost choked. His eyes were wide, and Frank frowned, "What is it?" He asked. Gerard looked like Billy Corgan had just walked into the room, his expression was dumbfounded.

"You guys..." He said slowly, as if testing the words, "You guys want me to be your singer? Like... permanently?"

Ray snorted, "Isn't that obvious?" He laughed, then his face fell, "You'll do it right?" His voice ebbed on pleading. 

Gerard blinked, and turned to look at Frank, as if trying to assure himself of something. Frank smirked, "You were fantastic, Gerard. You have a place with us if you want it." 

The boys sitting in the booth all seemed to lean in closer, hanging on to Gerard's every movement, as a slow smile creeped onto his face, "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than with you guys on that stage." He finally said.

The booth erupted in cheers, a few other patrons looked up with scowls on their faces, but Frank and the rest of the group could have cared less. Frank leaned in and pressed a kiss to Gerard's temple, "You're in the band!" He proclaimed. Gerard laughed.

"Welcome to My Chemical Romance." Ray said, and shoved some more onion rings into his face. 

"My Chemical Romance?" Gerard whispered to himself, and his eyes lit up, "That has a nice ring to it. I like it." 

"I came up with it." Mikey chimed in proudly. Gerard grinned at him.

"I have a feeling our lives are about to get way more interesting." Frank said, and everyone around the table nodded, excitedly. But when Frank looked to Gerard, he seemed almost distant. For a few seconds, he looked as if he weren't there in the booth with them, but on a different planet entirely. Frank took a sip from his chocolate malt, suddenly the ice cream didn't go down his throat as easily, it felt like a rock sliding down, dropping into the pit of his stomach.

.

They all parted ways, Frank was walking back to the lighthouse with Gerard and Mikey. He hadn't gone home in about a week and a half, and he was starting to run out of clean clothes. Currently, he was wearing one of Gerard's old sweaters, that was a little too big for him, because his shirt was so dirty, it would be offensive to God herself to wear it out.

But it was better than having to face his parents. He had left after his father had broken his grandfather's guitar, the same guitar that Frank had first learned to play on. Frank's dad always had a way of making him feel like he was 7 again, small and helpless. It hadn't always been like this, Frank couldn't help but hold onto memories of his dad smiling, and teaching Frank how to ride his bike. How he'd kiss his mother goodnight, and when he told Frank to never burn his marshmallows when they went camping together. Frank always had some small piece of him that he'd wake up, and everything would be normal again, but it never was.

Frank didn't know when it had changed, the sudden shift in polarity happened after his dad lost his job. He had come home and gotten drunk, and had remained that way for a week straight. When Frank had dropped a carton of eggs on the kitchen floor one morning, his father had started yelling about how he had made a mess. Frank had apologized profusely, as he picked up the eggshells, his hands covered in sticky yolk, and his eyes blurring with tears, as his father's voice got louder, it sounded like a freight train plowing through Frank's head. He wanted it to stop. Frank stood up quickly, and yelled, "I am sorry!" at the top of his lungs, just to try and block out the noise of his dad.

It happened so quickly, Frank didn't even have time to register it. First he was standing, and then his dad's hand had struck him across the face, hard and mercilessly. His dad still had his ring on, and it broke the soft skin of his cheek, blood dripped from the cut, onto Frank's palm, Frank had stared at it with disbelief in his eyes. He couldn't even cry, even though pain pulsed through from the cut. "You will respect me, Frank." His father had said, his voice eerily calm, "You learn to respect me, or I'll teach you how to." He talked to Frank as if he were a dog.

Flash forward to last week. Frank had left after getting into an argument that had resulted in his dad taking his grandfather's old guitar off the wall and smashing it into the ground. Frank had let out a choked sound, as he crumpled on the floor to try to gather up the pieces, but his father had grabbed his face in his hands, squeezing his cheeks so hard, it stung. "You're ungrateful. You don't deserve a damn thing I give you." He had growled, the words hurt more than anything. "I've been told you're hanging with that faggot boy up in that lighthouse, is that true?" His father's voice rose.

"No, sir." Frank had gasped, and clutched at his father's hands, trying to pry him off. "I've been at Ray's." He lied.

"Don't lie to me!" He screamed, and threw Frank to the ground. "Do you want to be like that boy? Do you want to be filthy? You're my son, and I can't believe I have to protect your sorry ass from people like that."

Frank had stayed on the ground, his eyes trained on the floor. "They whisper about you Frankie, they say you're a fag, too." His father taunted, voice low. Frank felt the words burn in his stomach, threatening to come up like bile. "Are you a fag?" His dad asked, almost gently.

"I am not a fag." Frank breathed, his voice shaking.

His dad patted and ran his fingers through Frank's hair, and Frank suddenly had the urge to chop all of it off. To grab his razors and cut and cut and cut, and maybe slit his own wrists while he was at it. But then, there was Gerard.

And he couldn't do that to Gerard. 

"Good. That's what I want to hear." His dad said, and then walked back into his room, stepping over the broken guitar, and leaving Frank in the train wreck of his own life.

He had run to Gerard's after that, trying to escape, trying to get free.

And for that week and a half he had been, he had felt more safe and content than he had in years. His life felt like he was living in a lullabye, and for the first time he didn't scrape his palms on the fragments of his own heart. Gerard had made his chest too full to feel as if he were ever sinking. It was like Gerard was magic or something. Frank had let himself believe that he was finally free.

But then, as they were walking, Mikey and Gerard chattering softly to each other. He felt his phone buzz. He looked down at it and saw a text on the screen from his dad. Frank's heart practically stopped.

"Come home. Now." was all it said. But somehow it said so much more than that.

Frank swallowed thickly, he had stopped walking and was still staring down at the phone screen. Gerard stopped and looked back at him, his brows furrowed, "What's wrong?" He came closer, but Frank took a step back. Suddenly everything felt dangerous, as if it were out to get him.

"I have to go home." Frank said, and the words made him want to cry as they left his mouth.

Gerard reached out for him, "Frank, you can stay with us one more night. You're upset-" he began.

Frank shook his head and waved them goodbye, "I gotta go." He said, and took off running, the closer he got to his house, the more he got the sense that he was a dead man walking.

.

Frank didn't see it, but Gerard did. After he left, the crows had all gathered in the trees, as if awaiting something. One had flown off of the branches, to follow Frank. One of its inky feathers falling to the ground, right at Gerard's feet.

.

Frank opened the front door tentatively, his heart hammering in his chest. There was sweat that dotted his forehead, despite the cold chill of the evening that stood behind him. He peered into the front room, the T.V. was left on, and it buzzed, white noise filling his head like a thick jelly, making the room feel a bit like it didn't exist. There was no one, no lights were on, there was no sound beside the television.

Frank was almost thankful, he let out a breath and stepped over the threshold, that was when the T.V. flicked to a channel that showed a cemetery, grey and silent, headstones covered in green moss, the narrator said, "Say goodbye to your worries, you bone head! And say hello to our velvette covered coffins! Eternal rest hasn't ever been this comfortable before!" Frank frowned at the T.V., but his attention was caught by the sudden beep of a microwave in the kitchen.

"Please be mom." Frank prayed to every god he could think of. The gods spat on him, as the silhouette of his dad stepped into the dying light. Frank tried to hide his shaking hands in his pockets. "Hi dad." He greeted him, trying to sound friendly.

His dad let out his usual grumble, the microwave chimed again behind him, the coffin's salesmen continued to talk cheerfully on the television. Neither of them moved or said a word for awhile, they just stood there, like a standoff. "Who's shirt is that?" His father finally sneered.

Frank's stomach plummetted as he looked down at Gerard's sweater, the soft texture suddenly feeling suffocating against his frame, "Just a friend's. I had to borrow some clothes because mine were dirty."

"I go to work to pay for you to look good, I pay for your clothes and you go around borrowing things from people? Why didn't you come home and get your own clothes, Frank?" His father spat, Frank tried hard not to visibly wince.

"I am sorry, dad. I'll take my own clothes with me next time." Frank immediately regretted the words once they left his mouth.

His father's face turned a bright shade of red, and he got closer to Frank. His dad wasn't taller than him, but the way he carried himself always made it feel like he towered over Frank. "Oh, so there's going to be a next time? What, do you not like being apart of this family? Are you too stuck up for the things I give you?" His father hissed.

Frank quickly shook his head, "No, No, that's... that's not what I meant." He tried to ammend, tried to back track, Frank's brain was foggy, still full of white static that was crashing over him like a wave, it was drowning him.

His dad struck him across the cheek, and Frank's head snapped to the side, "Don't lie to me!" He boomed.

Frank couldn't help but laugh as he drew his hand away from his nose, and saw blood. The fatal sound escaped his mouth before he could stop it, as he breathed, "What the fuck?"

His dad caught him by the arm, and dragged him down the hall. For a small guy, he was strong. His grip on Frank's arm was tight, almost bone crushing. Frank lost his balance and fell to the ground as he dad continued to drag him, he felt his shoulder sickeningly pop, he let out a shriek. It hurt so bad, Frank couldn't even cry about it, wordless breaths escaped his mouth, as he tried hard not to black out.

His dad threw him into the storage closet, it was wide enough that Frank could stand in, and about hip width apart. Frank couldn't register what was happening, as his dad closed the door on him. "You're not going anywhere until you learn to be grateful." His father said, his voice almost sounded giddy.

Frank finally understood what was happening, and that he had been locked in the closet. "Wait!" Frank coughed out, and banged on the door, "Dad, please!" He screamed, as the darkness seemed to hug him tighter. There wasn't even a light in the closet, only a small sliver that escaped from under the door. Frank was sobbing, as he slammed his fists into the door, every time his hands hit, it sent a shockwave of pain into his shoulder, but Frank couldn't stop. He had to get out. "I am sorry! I am so sorry, dad! Let me out!" He pleaded.

But his dad had left. There was no one outside, his mother wasn't home, and there wasn't anyone else that was there to free him. After what felt like hours of screaming and crying, his throat raw, his shoulder singing in pain, Frank finally got too tired to beg anymore. He slid down the wall, until his butt hit the floor. He let his head fall back against the cool wall, and cried.

.

Frank didn't know how long it had been. It had felt like centuries though. His legs were burning from staying in the same position for so long, he stood up, although that didn't help much, because all he could really do was stand. It at least got some blood flowing through his limbs. Frank tried to listen for noises outside, he pressed his ear to the door, and heard the dull drone of the television, but no sound of human life. Frank cursed, wondering where his mother could possibly be.

A horrifying thought crossed his mind, as he imagined his mom, hurt, or worse. Her eyes dulled, her dark hair tangled with congealed blood, her body stiff, her arms no longer able to reach for him, to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. The image made his stomach twist, and Frank promptly vomited onto the floor. "Fuck." Frank moaned, and wiped saliva that was drooling from his mouth onto his hand.

Things were only going to get worse.

.

Frank had tried to call someone, but when he took his phone out of his pocket, he saw that it was dead. "Motherfucker!" Frank spat, and threw it against the wall in frustration. Frank was weak, and so it didn't shatter, it just bounced off and landed on the floor with an unsatisfying thud. 

Frank remembered last week, when Gerard and him had been sitting up on the lighthouse's roof. Gerard had said that the universe listened, if you reached out to it, you might even be able to get a message across. Frank wasn't really sure what he'd say to the universe, he felt like everything that was in his brain was pretty boring to an eternal being. But desperate times called for desperate measures,

"Hey god, it's Frank. Could you tell Gerard that I am locked in a closet and can't get out. Please." Frank whispered aloud, his voice croaked as he begged, "Please. I don't want to die in here." 

Frank waited for a reply, but all that he could hear, was the hum of the quiet that enclosed him.

.

Another century seemed to pass and still, Frank was in the closet. He counted to himself, over and over and over, trying to keep track of the minutes. He was too weak to stand, every time he did, he'd sway dizzily. So, he was laying down at the bottom of the closet, although it felt more like the bottom of a well. The more he looked up at the ceiling, the more he was convinced that he could see faces in the popcorn. They all looked a bit like Gerard, though. Small teeth. Bushy eyebrows. Soft eyes. Faint freckles.

"1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10" he counted, starting on a new minute. He hadn't really been keeping track of how many minutes he had in total, time fell into his palms like a broken machine, the white noise in his head made it impossible to believe that time even existed at all. The more he tried to piece the hours together, the more he realized that his time was running out.

Better not to keep track of it, then. Since the thought of counting down his death was a bit grim. But still, he whispered "45-46-47-48-49-50"

Over and over and over.

.

Frank kept drifting in and out. Brief glimpses of when he was young kept playing against his eyelids, like a picture show. He saw himself when he was 9 years old, giggling as he picked up his grandfather's guitar, squealing when he managed to get a few chords right. "I am going to be the next Iggy Pop." He grinned. Younger Frank was on the glider of his grandparents' porch, a crow landed on the arch beside him, but younger Frank didn't seem to mind. He kept strumming on the guitar, gleefully.

Then, younger Frank turned and looked directly at him. "Frank? What are you doing? Can you hear me?" Younger Frank was frowning, and he almost looked scared. That made Frank scared, too. His heart beat began to pick up. "We're going to be in a band, remember? We're gonna save the world." Younger Frank prodded, "What about Gerard?"

Frank was crying again, and it came from everywhere. His tears seemed to flood the dream, as he doubled over and sobbed, the incomprehensible sadness felt as if it had just snapped his ribcage in half, the bones protruding straight from his chest. "I can't do it!" He screamed, younger Frank flinched and hugged his guitar closer. "They're killing me!" Frank crumpled, snot running out of his nose.

The dream washed away, and left Frank feeling hollowed out, drifting in space. The darkness seemed to breathe around him, like a separate beast that was dying to swallow him whole. Funny enough, Frank wasn't scared. The more he drifted, the more he realized that he could see the end of the sea, he could see where the sun set on the horizon.

And it was beautiful.


	13. Disconnect

Gerard was sitting in the sunflower field when he had the vision, he felt as if his arm had been broken, pain made him cry out and drop the freshly cut sunflowers that he had been holding in his hand. They fell to the dirt, and Gerard quickly collapsed on to his knees next to them. He looked around, trying to find a source of what had caused the discomfort, if something had hit him. But there was nothing, he was all alone in the field, as usual. The pain started to ebb away, but it stilled pulsed dully. "What on Earth?" Gerard breathed, and started to get up.

Just then, he heard a voice, counting. It sounded familiar to him, as it hummed in his head like a musician keeping time, "1-2-3-4-5-6" it droned. Gerard looked around, but there was no one. "Hello?!" He called, "Who's there?" but no one was there, it was just him.

His brow was furrowed, he reached down to grab his bouquet of sunflowers, only to find that they had been destroyed after he had fallen on them. Their yellow leaves stained with dark dirt, brown centers reaching out like palms, towards a sunless sky.

.

It had been almost a week since Gerard had seen Frank last, and he was starting to get worried. The weather had been awfully strange, too, even for their town. It rained, non-stop, as if the Earth was mourning something that she couldn't quite remember. The rain pattered against the windowpanes in heaven droplets, and turned the sea into a crashing, grey temptress. Gerard watched it from his bedroom window, wrapped up in his sheets as if it were a cloak. They still smelled like Frank, and they placed a feeling of longing in his chest. 

Tomorrow was the concert, and Mikey was practically bouncing everywhere he went. Gerard hadn't ever seen him so excited about anything, it made him laugh, as Mikey talked excitedly from the other side of the room, "If we get signed, we'll tour the world in a van, and we'll all be sweaty and gross, and we'll play shows every night, and it'll be great!" He rambled, gleefully. He was sitting crossed legged on the wood floor, and was staring up at the ceiling. "I can't believe this might actually be happening." He breathed.

Gerard smiled at his younger brother, "You're gonna save the world, Mikey." He said, proudly.

Mikey looked over at him, a small smirk on his face, "Not without you."

"You'll always have me." Gerard assured him. The rain continued to pour, and Mikey kept typing on his phone. The keys making a faint clicking noise as he did. Gerard tried to ignore the sounds he was hearing in the back of his mind. A faint voice, calling for help, a sense of unease and desperation coiled itself around Gerard's veins, except he couldn't figure out why.

He looked back out at the window, and saw a small ship out at sea. The waves rushing up and over the sides, it was taking on water, it tilted almost side ways and Gerard let out a gasp of horror, thinking it was going to go under. He could see people on the deck, clinging to the rails for dear life. "Mikey! There's a boat out there!"

It stayed afloat for a few more moments, until a huge wave came crashing over it, smashing it into the rocks and cap-sizing it completely, the people went tumbling overboard with the wreckage. Gerard was sure he could hear their tragic shrieks all the way from his room, Gerard let out a scream, Mikey came rushing over. "Gerard, calm down. You're seeing things! No one is crazy enough to go out into the harbor in weather like this!"

"They went under!" Gerard cried out, hands shaking as he pointed towards the spot where the ship went down, Mikey pressed his face to the glass and looked in the direction that Gerard was pointing in. He frowned.

"There isn't anything there." Mikey replied, concern etched into his features.

"But there-" Gerard looked back out, and saw to his shock, that Mikey was right. The boat was gone.

Mikey patted him on the shoulder, his expression soft, "You're just tired. Get some rest, we have a big day tomorrow."

Gerard nodded, and massaged his temples. Mikey was probably right, he was just exhausted. However, as night fell and the darkness hung over the town like a blanket, Gerard could hear the howling of dogs, all throughout the night. Creeping into his dreams, hunting him. 

Except Gerard wasn't Gerard in his dreams. He was Frank.

How could that be?

.

It was the day of the concert and Gerard's nerves felt like jumbled wires in his stomach, every now and then sending a jolt of adrenaline through his system. He stared at himself in the mirror and ran a hand through his unruly black hair, he couldn't help but realize that he looked exhausted. He hoped it wasn't that obvious, the nightmares had been keeping up for the past week, and whenever he closed his eyes he heard voices. It was strange, even for him.

Mikey appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, his hair flat ironed until it stuck to his head. Gerard gawked at his brother for a few seconds, who looked sort of like an anime character, as Mikey said, "You ready?" 

"No." Gerard replied flatly. "I feel like I am gonna projectile vomit."

"That's the spirit!" Mikey said, and swung an arm around his brother, dragging him away from the bathroom and the weird sense like he was forgetting something.

Something important.

.

Ray was wearing an iron maiden t-shirt and a huge smile when Gerard and Mikey showed up at the venue. It was two hours before show time, but there were already kids lined up out back. The stage was dimly lit, and there was a janitor that was boredly sweeping the floor, a bit half-heartedly, considering that in just a few hours it would inevitably get trashed all over again. Bob was testing out his drum kit, while Brian chatted with a technician. Ray motioned for them to come over, "Brian says it's supposed to be a big crowd tonight."

Mikey shrugged, "Nothing we can't handle" his expression turning into a devious grin. Ray high-fived him, and helped him up onto the stage next to him. 

Ray turned to Gerard, "Are you nervous?" 

"A healthy amount." Gerard replied, that was a lie. His stomach kept feeling like he dropped it on the way over to the venue, and he was getting the sneaking idea that he was entirely too sober for this whole ordeal. The bar wasn't open yet, but it still pulled his attention. He shook the thought away though, he wanted to be present and lucid for this whole experience, or at least that is what he was telling himself.

"Good. Good." Ray nodded, then his expression darkened, he bit his lip and frowned, "Have any of you guys talked to Frank since last weekend?"

Another sickening tug pulled at Gerard's nerves, he raised a worried eyebrow, "You mean, you guys haven't heard from him either?" The three of them all shared concerned looks, Gerard ran a hand through his hair, trying to not lose his composture completely. 

"He probably just dropped his phone in the toilet or something, again." Mikey said, although he didn't seem very convinced by his own argument.

"It's not like him to drop off the map like this though..." Ray mumbled mostly to himself. An uneasiness fell over them, and Gerard felt as if the walls were closing in on himself, as if he were an animal trapped-

"You guys, come check this out! Matt is a giving Chris Angel a run for his money!" Brian called from across the room. They turned to see Brian with one of the technicians, who was currently pulling a feather boa out of nowhere, a smug look on his face.

Ray laughed, and said, "I am sure Frank will turn up soon."

Mikey groaned, "He better."

.

It was 45 minutes til, and there was still no sign of Frank. The venue was starting to fill up with people, and Gerard was pacing backstage. "Would you stop pacing? You're making me anxious." Mikey grumbled.

Gerard scowled, "Something's wrong." He said.

Ray shook his head, "You're overthinking this." He said, his tone comforting, but his words only made Gerard's heart race more.

Mikey made eye contact with his brother, and they exchanged a telepathic look that simply said "Do you trust me?" "Of course."

Mikey finally sighed, "Listen to Gerard. He's usually right about these sorts of things." 

Ray looked astounded, but had no time to argue, as Mikey grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him along, Gerard raced ahead of them, not wanting to waste any time. "Where are we going?" Ray asked.

"To save Frank." Gerard called back. 

.

Gerard sped down the highway, following the crows for directions, although he sort of already knew where he was going without their help. Ray clutched the ceiling handle for dear life as Gerard made a 45 mph turn going 70 mph. "Could you slow the fuck down?!" Ray pleaded.

"Ray, don't vomit on the seats, I just got them reapholstered." Mikey said, who seemed unbothered by his brother's reckless driving.

"If Frank isn't dead, I am gonna kill him." Ray groaned, and squeezed his eyes shut as Gerard sped his way through a yellow light. 

Gerard shot a venomous look at Ray, that said, "Now is not the time." And Ray quickly clamped his mouth shut.

When they got to Frank's house, Gerard was out of the car before anyone could blink. Ray stumbled out, and followed close behind, along with Mikey. There was a dim porch light on, that cut a yellow stream of light that reflected off of the rain. Everything glowed in a sickly palor, a crow was sitting on the mailbox when they pulled in, as if to say, "You have arrived at your destination." Like bad luck's own personal GPS.

Gerard knocked on the door, and resisted the urge to ring the doorbell, too. The house was rather small, and was painted an eggshell white, it looked lonely. As if it existed on another plane, as if it were an apparition. The door finally opened and Gerard almost allowed himself to be relieved, until he saw who it was.

Frank's father.

"Can I help you?" He greeted them, stiffly.

Gerard cleared his throat, "Does Frank Iero live here?" He asked, Ray and Mikey both had gone riggidly still behind him as they took in the man. He looked nothing like Frank. His eyes were icy and unkind, unlike the warmth that always seemed to swim in Frank's gaze, like an open invitation to leave your heart on your sleeve whenever you saw him. This man looked like a crocodile. He could eat you whole.

"No." The man said, a strange glimmer dancing in his eyes as he said it.

Gerard felt anger pulse through his veins at the blatant lie. "Well, if you see him, tell him that his friends are looking for him."

The man laughed at that, although it was cruel, there was no joy in the sound, "Sure kid, if I see him I'll tell him."

The man started to close the door, and some insane impulse took Gerard over and he stuck his foot in the door before it could close all the way, the man met Gerard's gaze, and Gerard could see all of the hate that was swimming in his eyes. Disgust, written all across his features, as if Gerard were a cockroach or something subhuman. "Please, sir. We're worried about him." He hated how he sounded like a little kid, begging. 

The man sneered, "I'd be more worried about the things people say about you, you queer." He turned and looked at Ray, his eyes narrowing in on him, recognition dawning on his features. Frank's father grunted, "Take your friend's home, Raymond."

Ray pulled Gerard back, just as the man slammed the door right in their faces. They stood there for several minutes just staring at the chipped red paint of the door, before Ray finally breathed, "Oh no... oh poor, Frank." His voice sounded heartbroken.

Gerard was fighting the urge to scream, he could feel it tearing itself up his throat, as frustration made him feel raw and bruised. Frank was in that house, Gerard could feel it. Something was very, very, very wrong. "He's in trouble." Gerard's voice trembled.

"And we're all going to be in even more trouble if we don't make it back to the show in time." Mikey spoke up.

"What are we going to do? We don't have our other guitarist." Gerard replied, his voice raising.

Ray patted Gerard's shoulder, "I'll figure something out. Frank might already be at the venue, we might've missed him!" His voice sounded encouraging, and Gerard desperately wanted to believe him. "Let's go back." Ray said, persuasively.

Gerard gave in. He drove them back. The entire time, trying to believe that everything was going to turn out alright.

Deep down though, he knew, life doesn't work that way. There is always a darker thread, a grey lining, a fall from heaven.

.

When they got back, Brian was in hysterics, "Where have you guys been?!" He exclaimed, incredulously, "I've been stalling for the past 10 minutes!"

"We went to go find Frank." Gerard replied, Brian frowned and looked around them, searching for the man in question.

"And where is he?" He asked, hesitantly. As if he didn't want to know the answer.

Gerard admitted, he probably really didin't deserve the answer to that question, Gerard was afraid it might actually loosen a screw that was already dangerously coming undone, in his head, but he had to tell, anyways, "We didn't find him." Gerard answered.

Brian closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took several deep breaths, like some sort of Yoga instructor. "So, we have no rhythm guitarist?"

"No." Replied Ray, his mouth drawing into a thin line.

"And there is a producer from eyeball out there, waiting for a set that we should've already been almost halfway through?" Brian laughed, deliriously.

"Yes." "Yeah." "Fuckin' right." The three of them all said at the same time.

"Sweet Mother Mary, please have mercy on our souls." Brian whispered, and it was as close to a prayer that they were going to get, as they reluctantly made their way onstage.

.

The spotlight did not fit around Gerard like a glove this time. It burned his skin. The noise from the crowd seemed to be coming from everywhere, although it was muffled and distant. Gerard sang, and Ray played his best, as he tried to keep up, they couldn't play half their songs without Frank there to support Ray's solos. Mikey and Bob both did their best to make up for their lack of a member, Mikey swung his bass around and dove around stage, trying to mimic Frank's intense energy, but it just wasn't the same. It wasn't his role to play, it was Frank's.

Gerard tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of stomach that everything was about to go wrong. He looked out to the crowd and saw nothing but strangers, it wasn't like how he usually felt at concerts, this time he felt no connection. He was just lost in the noise.

When they finished their set, Gerard looked up at the faces, and saw that all of the kids wore the same expression that Frank had had when Gerard saw in him in the mirror, desolate and emptied. Gerard was beginning to hyperventilate, Ray noticed and quickly leaned into his mic and yelled, "We're My Chemical Romance! Thank you for being such a great crowd! Make some noise for Thursday, and we'll see you fuckers next time!" 

Ray looked back at Gerard with an expression that only said, "We've fucked up."

Gerard turned back and looked at the crowd, they were all just kids again, screaming for their favorite band. It had been another vision, another frantic haunting. A fever dream that slipped through his fingers, before he could even register what it meant.


	14. Sterile

Gerard was in a bad mood. Ray had come around earlier to report that Eyeball had backed out on them, that it was "unprofessional" to show up without a member of their band, and that they didn't want that type of bullshit on their label. They only took serious artists. Mikey had been sitting at the kitchen table, carding his hands through his hair, looking absolutely miserable. "Well," he started, "We blew it."

Ray was angry and had grumbled from his place on the floor beside a dangerously stacked pile of books, that was roughly shoulder height of Gerard, "You mean Frank blew it."

Gerard had rounded on him with a glare on his face, "This isn't Frank's fault, he loves this band more than any of us. Whereever he is, it must be important!" His voice rose by the end of it.

Ray still wore a stormy look on his face, and Gerard shook his head, "I am going out." He mumbled, grabbing his coat and heading down towards the beach.

.

Gerard let the waves almost catch him, they barely missed the tips of his black boots, before falling away, like how a faded dream dies upon waking. Gerard looked out towards the sea and said, "Where is he? Is he safe?" and trusted that it knew he was talking about Frank.

It was still raining, with no signs of stopping. Gerard was drenched, and droplets ran off of his strands of hair, and fell onto his eyelashes, and slid from the sharp point of his nose. Gerard could've sworn he heard something whisper in his ear, "Are you listening?"

Gerard replied, whether the voice was real or not, "Of course. I am always listening."

And as soon as the words left his mouth, there was a sharp pain in the center of his head, right in between his eyes, Gerard gasped, his vision had gone black and he stumbled as he peered into a void. At first he was terrified, it felt like he was dying, his entire body ached and burned, the pain in his shoulder was back. His muscles hummed with the desperate need to move, to get up, but to also fall apart and decay, all at the same time.

Gerard realized that this wasn't him. He was somebody else, he was seeing and feeling through a different body. Realization dawned on him, that this must be Frank, and then a wave of fear made him crash back to reality. His vision came back all at once, and his surroundings were all too bright compared to the darkness that he had just experienced. 

Gerard's breathing was heavy, as he stared wide eyed at the sea, "He's dying?" He said it like a statment more than a question, though. As if in response, the rain finally stopped, dead in its tracks like a suicide commando on train tracks. Gerard cursed, and scrambled back up the hill, praying that there was still time left. 

As he drove, he repeated words in his head, "Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive. Please. Please. Please, be alive." Like a broken record, hoping that Frank could hear.

.

Gerard arrived at Frank's house and knocked on the door, he was prepared to push Frank's dad to the ground if he stopped him like he did last time he was here. There was no answer, when Gerard knocked a third time, he realized that no one was home. He cursed again, knowing that if he wanted to get in, he'd either have to have a key or he'd have to break the door down. It obviously was going to have to be the latter.

He took a breath, and whispered "Sorry," before hurling himself against the door. Pain bloomed in his side, but Gerard didn't care, he threw himself again and again, until there was a sickening crack in the wood. Still, it didn't give. "Dammit!" Gerard yelled, then noticed a mat beneath his feet that cheerfully said " welcome!" with a filthy, dirt covered blue bird on it. Gerard bent down and lifted the mat, to find a small spare key underneath it.

"Where were you before I almost dislocated my shoulder, huh?" Gerard grumbled, but was still relieved by the find. He twisted the key in the lock, and it clicked victoriously, Gerard opened the door and was hit with a rancid smell. He gagged, and walked in, looking around for any signs of life. "Frank?!" He screamed. The house smelled like piss, blood and vomit, the way Gerard imagined a hospital to smell, beneath all of the bleach. There was no response, so he began to frantically look.

He searched all the bedrooms, bathrooms, the attic and even the shed out back. All he found were unmade beds and spiders that hung from silvery cobwebs on the ceiling, he was beginning to lose hope as he stumbled back into the house after checking the shed, when suddenly, he got a gut feeling that told him to go down the hall. 

He did, he passed a small slendor door and a pang of pain pulsed in his chest, he stopped. This was it.  He knew it. Gerard opened the door and the first thing that hit him was the smell, but stronger. Even more awful, was the small, starving figure curled on the floor that was Frank. "Oh god." Gerard let out a shocked breath, and fell to his knees, gathering Frank up in his arms, "Oh god, oh god, oh god." He repeated, trying to check for a pulse. For several moments, there wasn't anything, and a plummetting feeling filled Gerard's chest, but then, there it was. Faint, but steady beneath his two fingers that were pressed against Frank's wrists.

Frank opened his eyes, and Gerard shrieked, "It's me! Frank, it's me! I am here. I got you, now." He said, quickly. 

Frank was looking somewhere past him, his eyes glossy and far-away, as if he were seeing glimpses of angels and was blinded by the light reflecting from their halos, Frank murmured, "1-2-3-4-5..." Gerard recognized the counting from the visions he'd been having all week. Guilt filled his stomach, as he realized he should've gone looking for Frank sooner.

Gerard took a shaky breath, trying hard not to freak out as he carried Frank out of the house, he weighed barely anything, in the afternoon light he looked far too pale and fragile, like a gossamer soul caught in the sun. "Stay with me, Frank." Gerard repeated, and put him in the passenger seat. 

Gerard remembered when Mikey was little, when he fell out of their bedroom window and almost broke his neck, but by some miracle broke his leg instead. Their mother had been sobbing hysterically in the ambulance, while Gerard held his little brother's hand, Mikey didn't look scared, he didn't even cry that much. Later, after the surgery that removed a disk and placed a rod in Mikey's arm, Gerard had sat at the side of his hospital bed and asked, "What happened?"

Mikey had quickly answered, "It was an accident."

But Gerard had been right there the entire time, he had watched as his little brother opened the window, as he usually did on days where it rained in the morning, so that he could let the smell of the damp Earth into the bedroom. Gerard hadn't been worried, until 8 year old Mikey got up onto the windowsill, and had stepped out without hesitation. It had happened in a blink.

"What really happened?" Gerard had pushed.

Mikey frowned, guilt crossing his features as he slowly responded, truthfully this time, "I wanted to see if I had superpowers."

Mikey's answer echoed in Gerard's mind as he drove to the hospital, glancing over at Frank every other second to make sure he was okay. "Where's my mom?" He asked, his words running together like a train wreck.

"She's at home." Gerard lied, as he pulled into the parking lot.

"Oh..." Frank replied, Gerard lifted him up out of the seat, Frank's head rested against the crook of his neck, his breaths coming in too haggard and labored, Gerard could feel Frank shaking in his arms and realized that he was crying, although he was too dehydrated and so no tears fell, "She didn't find me." Frank moaned.

"No, but I did." Gerard replied, gently. 

.

The emergency room was full, and people were sitting around in chairs, looking miserable and inpatient. An overly cheerful news reporter was updating the room on a sports game that no one cared about, when Gerard burst through the sliding doors it cracked the bored silence in two. Everyone looked up in curiosity as Gerard yelled, "My friend needs help!" 

The woman at the front desk seemed unimpressed by his theatrics, as he rushed up to the desk, "Sir, can you fill out this paperwork?" She pushed a form towards him. 

Gerard stared at the forms in the desk in utter disbelief for a few moments, before anger boiled over in his stomach and he screamed, "My friend has been locked in a closet for a week straight, he's fucking starved and dying, I don't have time for fucking forms!"

The woman looked up and her eyes widened when she saw Frank, she leaned into an intercom and gave Gerard a nervous smile, "Sorry sir, but you still need to fill these out. The doctor will be here shortly."

Two tall men rushed out, one had a gurney and the other grabbed Frank from Gerard's grasp and laid him down on it. Gerard felt like he had been flung out into deep space without Frank's weight in his arms, he stared as the two men quickly spoke, and started to wheel Frank away. "Frank..." Gerard whispered, suddenly the entire situation felt real, the shock started to fade and left him in a sobered daze. "Is he going to be okay?" Gerard turned to the woman at the desk.

The woman smiled sweetly, although it did not meet her eyes, "Of course, he'll be alright, sugar."


	15. Get Well Soon, Somebody Loves You

When Frank woke up, the first thing he felt was an itch on the inside of his elbow. He knew it was an I.V. by the way he could feel the cold liquid pumping through his veins, metallic and silvery, which probably was just his imagination but still felt real all the same. His throat burned and his tongue was cakey, as if he had been left out in the heat of the desert for weeks without anything to drink. He was scared to open his eyes, terrified that he'd be met with the darkness of the closet that he had become accustomed to. He only dared take a peek at his surroundings, because he could hear the quiet beeps and whirs of machines, which meant he couldn't be stuck in the closet, still.

He opened his eyes, and at first, the world was so blinding that it stung his eyes and made them water. He had to blink several times, until his hospital room came into focus, it was fuzzy, and the window was open and showed the sunny day outside, there were plants and cards all over the windowsill, which struck Frank as odd, because he couldn't think of anyone who would care enough to send him anything.

But then, he saw a slumped form sitting across from his bed, in a chair. His dark hair looked like it hadn't been combed for days, and his clothes were all rumpled, as if he hadn't bothered to change out of them. He was snoring quietly, his cheek pressed against his palm, and his lips slightly parted. Even when he was sleeping, Gerard looked slightly tragic, the way angels look in murals on church walls. Sad and magical. Frank opened his mouth to call out, to tell him that he was awake, but all that came out was a hoarse cough.

All the same, Gerard sat up immediately, his eyes wide and blood shot. He looked around, almost seeming paranoid, until he realized that it was Frank who had made the sound. He sucked in a breath between his two front teeth, and got closer to the bed, his hand going to hold on to Frank's, his fingers lightly brushing over the skin. Gerard seemed as if he wasn't sure as to what to say, his bottom lip quivered a bit, but he pulled his lips into a tight smile anyways, it made Frank's chest tug. "I was so worried, I am so sorry I didn't come to get you sooner, Frank. I knew something wasn't right, I should've listened to my gut-" Gerard was talking too fast, and his hands were doing that thing where they moved too fast, trying to keep up with his racing thoughts. 

Frank shook his head, really quickly, the more Gerard talked, the more his head hurt. "Gerard, it's okay." He croaked. Gerard realized that Frank probably needed water, and got up and grabbed a bottle from the counter. He handed it over to Frank, the water inside of the bottle sloshed a bit due to his shaky hands. Frank took it, greedily. After he finished, his stomach lurched, his body hadn't seen food or water in what felt like years. Frank got a weird feeling in his chest, as he tried to figure out exactly how long he had been locked up. It felt like years, but it could've only been a day or two, something in his gut told him he wouldn't like the answer though.

"How long was I gone?" Frank asked, looking up at Gerard.

Gerard looked at him the same way someone would look at a dying animal, as if Frank were a fox that he had stumbled upon on a walk in the woods, his brain matter exposed and his hind legs lame. Gerard's expression didn't make Frank feel any better, "Gerard. What fucking day is it? When is the gig?"

"Frank, listen-" Gerard began with a hesitant tone to his voice, but was interrupted by Ray, bursting through the door, holding a small circus's worth of balloons.

Frank stared at Ray, who was fighting to get all of them into the room, Mikey followed closely behind with a huge teddy bear, along with Brian and Bob, who were both carrying flowers. When they saw that Frank was awake, Mikey's mouth dropped and Ray let go of all of the balloons, which drifted in all directions of the room like doves set free. "He lives!" Brian exclaimed with a relieved laugh.

Mikey practically dove onto the bed and gave Frank a hug, saying, "Don't you ever leave me alone with these assholes ever again, Iero. I lost at least a quarter of my sanity without you here to subdue them. Ray made me go to the beach during a rainstorm."

"It was for science!" Ray argued.

"Science my ass, you just wanted me to take pictures of Jane!" Mikey spat back. (Jane was Ray's crush that he's had since 2nd grade. Jane is also 37.) He gave Frank a tired look, and then pulled away, so that everyone else could see Frank.

Ray beamed at him, while Brian ruffled Frank's hair like an over-protective older brother, and Bob handed Frank a card that simply said, "Thanks for not dying on us, dipshit." With several hearts drawn out at the bottom. Frank stared up at them in awe, as if really seeing them all for the first time. Frank hadn't ever thought anyone cared all that much for him. Afterall, the universe always seemed to be sending him signs that he was better off as dust.

But Frank had been overlooking the gift that the universe had given him as well, he hadn't noticed when Ray helped him study until 2 a.m. on Friday night's, or when Mikey played video games with him and patted his back when he threw up into the toilet after too much cheap beer, or when Bob taught him the proper way to ride a motorbike, and he hadn't even appreciated when Brian yelled at him for not taking himself seriously. They all cared so much, and Frank had been blind to it.

And then there was Gerard, who looked exhausted but relieved, as if he had spent his entire time at Frank's bedside. The thought made something shift in his chest, and if he didn't stop thinking about the feeling now, he was going to start crying like a straight person during The Notebook.

"You guys are the best." Was all he managed to get out, and he meant it, and so much more.

Ray shrugged, "We're the world's finest, we must admit." He grinned, Frank groaned. 

Brian shoved him gently in the arm, "Just don't scare us like that again, okay? We were scared we'd have to find another guitarist, and no one plays like you."

Frank smiled at him, a bit bittersweetly. "Yeah, I'll make up for all of this mess, this weekend." He winked, "I'll play the show in a wheelchair if I have to." He joked, although a creeping feeling said he might have to, his legs felt like they were made of lead, and his back felt as if it had gotten run over by a garbage truck.

Ray's smile faltered, and Mikey looked up at Gerard with a telepathic glance on his face, that said something that Frank couldn't discern. Gerard looked pale, as if a ghost from the fourth floor cardiac center had just flown past him. Frank frowned, the tension in the room felt like a balloon ready to pop, "Guys, what aren't you telling me?" 

Gerard cleared his throat, "Nothing, we're just all still a little spooked." He said. Frank felt a bit frustrated, afterall, if anyone had a right to be freaked out, it was him. He had just spent a nice holiday away in a closet, drinking margaritas with the grim reaper.

Ray nodded, "It's good to have you back, dude." 

.

The nurses were slowly trying to get him to eat more since Frank had lost a lot of weight. His collarbones protuded sharply from underneath his hospital gown, and his knee caps were too knobby for his own liking, his hollow cheeks made him look a bit like a ghoul. Another two days past and Frank had the suspicion that Gerard was dancing around the subject of the concert for a reason. Otherwise, he was perfectly normal around Frank. 

It was 9 p.m., and not many visitors were left, the staff milled about busily despite the late hour. Gerard crawled up onto his bed, the lumpy mattress creaking a little underneath their shared weight. Gerard sat crossed leg in front of Frank, and sat his hands out, palms up, on his knees. "Have you ever gotten your palm read before?" 

Frank laughed at him, smacking his hands away, "What? Are you psychic now?" 

Gerard grinned at him, his small teeth poking out from his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges, "Straight out of Salem." He grabbed Frank's hand before he could protest, and spread his fingers out as if studying a map. Frank was trying to act unimpressed, but it was hard when Gerard's touch was so tender as his fingers fluttered lightly over the lines on his palm, his brow furrowed, his hazel eyes contemplative. He looked like he was searching the constellations, and Frank started to believe that he could actually see the future held in Frank's boney hands.

"Is it anything good?" Frank said, voice teasing, even though a large part of him was hopeful. Who knows? Maybe he'd win a million dollars in the near future. When Gerard looked up, he didn't let go of Frank's hand, and he stilled looked a little bit starstruck, as if stranded on one of Saturn's rings, a moonlit halo glowing above his head.

Gerard smiled, and pointed to one of the longer, deeper lines, that had several others swirling around it, "This is the heart line. See how it's strong, and deep?"

Frank nodded, "What's that mean?" He asked, looking down at their hands that sat in between their two laps.

Gerard looked at Frank knowingly, "It means people love you, Frank. Whether you want them to or not, your heart is steady, like the tides." 

Frank pushed Gerard away, "Sappy. You're so sappy." Gerard snickered, falling back onto his elbows dramatically. He looked beautiful just then, his hair falling in his face as he laughed, his cheeks blooming roses. 

Frank moved so that he was crawling over the top of him, Gerard began to protest, "Frank, don't. You might get hurt-"

"Fuck that." Frank cut him off, although his muscles were still sore and he could feel his shoulder pulling, his tendons stretching in ways that they shouldn't be. Frank didn't care though, the only thing that mattered was Gerard. "If I am the tides, you could be the full moon."

Gerard snorted, but pulled Frank closer anyways, "And I am the sappy one? What are you Robert Frost?" 

"Emily Dickinson." Frank corrected.

Gerard groaned, but Frank stopped him with a kiss.  And it was gentle, but delirious at the same time. Frank moved from Gerard's lips, down his neck, leaving kisses on his soft skin, the way he had been longing to for a long time. He bit at the tender area over Gerard's collar bone, he could practically hear Gerard's heart beating through his ribcage, Frank wondered if he could hear his, too. A tell-tale heart, without the murder part.

Gerard pushed him back, and Frank protested, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Frank. Trust me." Gerard replied, and started to lift up the edge of Frank's hospital gown. 

Frank's eyes widened, and he looked over at the door, expecting an innocent, unsuspecting nurse to walk in at any moment. "Gerard. We can't."

"You almost died, you deserve a blow job." Gerard had a sort of evil smirk on his face, and as much as Frank wanted to argue that it was fucked up to be doing this in a hospital bed, he was already hard and all of his rational thinking was tossed out the window by the dark, taunting look that Gerard was giving him. "You want me to stop?" Gerard asked, seriously.

"Hell no." Frank breathed. Gerard laughed, the sound breathy as he slid Frank's boxers down. Frank wasn't quite sure what to expect, even though he had imagined this scenario on too many Tuesday nights, beneath his sheets that he'd have to clean the next morning. Frank heard movements outside of the door and tensed, readying himself for a doctor to come in and see, "Hold on- Oooohhhmygod" Frank groaned, as Gerard's mouth closed around his head. He forgot about the world around him, as Gerard hummed and flicked his tongue over Frank's cock. Frank was already close, it was ridiculous, he moaned, his hands gripping Gerard's head, tangling in his messy hair. His thighs shaking, as Gerard fucked him.

"Shitshitshit" Frank slurred, pressure coiling at the base of his stomach, he wasn't going to be able to hold on any longer, Gerard sped up, and Frank was done for, as he fell over the edge, his breathing ragged, and cheeks flushed. Gerard swallowed, and moved back up so that he was laying on his back, breathing heavily beside Frank. They both stared at the ceiling for a good moment, before bursting into giggles, like two highschoolers. "I need to put myself through more near death experiences, apparently." Frank joked, Gerard scowled at him, and Frank chuckled, "I am totally kidding."

Gerard's eyes grew sad, "I thought I had lost you, Frank." He whispered.

Frank shook his head, "Please, don't talk like that. My heart has been through too much pain in the past 48 hours, I can't deal with it." He replied, his voice trembling.

Gerard looked wrecked though, and he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Just then, the T.V. flicked on to the local news, making both of them jump. "Jesus fuck!" Gerard exclaimed.

Frank frowned at the screen, he hadn't watched any T.V. since the odd commercial for coffins back at home. At the bottom of the screen, breaking news headlines scrolled, along with the temperature, time and date. His heart practically stopped when he saw that the day currently was Wednesday, March 18th. The concert had been four days ago, Frank had missed it. His soul seemed to fall straight through the floor, it must've been heavy enough to carve a hole right through the planet's core, and out the other end.

Gerard spat out a curse when he saw Frank's reaction and scrambled for the remote, turning it off hurriedly. The screen went black with a fzzzt. Frank's lungs felt like they were collapsing, his breaths coming in too quickly, making him dizzy. He looked to Gerard, eyes like daggers as he demanded, "Gerard, what day is it?"

"Frank, please. It's late, can we talk about this tomorrow?" Gerard began, expression flooding with an unbearable look of pity and sorrow. Frank felt like screaming.

"Did I miss the fucking concert?" Frank hissed, "And you didn't tell me until now?" He wanted to sound angry, but his voice came out hurt. 

Gerard stared at a tile on the floor, not wanting to meet Frank's gaze, "Frank, you were in that closet for a week and a day." Gerard whispered so quietly, as if saying it aloud finally made it true, and the truth was trying its best to eat a hole through him, like a moth chewing its way through your favorite shirts. "When I found you, you were barely alive. Your vitals were so low, they said they had seen better numbers on fucking corpses." Gerard squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again there were tears that fell from his eyes. He didn't try to wipe them away, his shoulders stayed hunched, his arms crossed over his chest, as if trying to hold all of his insides in.

Frank could only stare at him, not wanting to understand, even though reality was so apparent to him, it was like staring into the sun. "What did Eyeball do? Did you get someone to play my part?" Frank asked quickly, his life slowly felt like it was upended like a table during a family dinner gone wrong.

Gerard finally looked up at him, anger flashing across his features, it was so rare, Gerard was usually so gentle, that it scared Frank. "Would you forget about the fucking band and care about yourself for one damn second? Frank, you were practically dead! Fuck Eyeball! Fuck the band!" Gerard growled, waving his hands in the air.

Frank felt like he was falling in between worlds again, the way he felt back when he was in the closet and all hope had finally faded from his chest that anyone was going to find him. "This band means more to me than anything else, it's my life."

Gerard looked tired again, the anger burning itself out as quickly as it came. He sighed, reservedly. "They didn't sign us."

Frank swallowed, thickly. This was worse than almost dying, the closet killed him physically, but this,

this would murder his spirit.

Gerard seemed to pick up on his thoughts, because he grew gentle again. "There will be other record labels, we'll have more opportunities. We will take this one chance at a time, I promise."  
Frank nodded, but didn't say anything. Gerard got into bed beside him again, and looked at him through the canopy of his dark eyelashes, "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine." Frank replied, but he wasn't. He was very, very, very not fine.

Gerard believed him just as much as Frank believed in himself, which was not at all. All the same, he didn't try to push anymore out of him. "You should get some sleep." And Frank knew he was right, but as he laid back, his mind didn't switch off.

Gerard let Frank lay his head against his chest, Frank listened to the steadiness of his heart beat, the warmth from his body was comforting. His breathing was even but awake, as much as Gerard tried to pretend that he was sleeping, he was as wide awake as Frank. The sounds of the cold machines echoed in Frank's brain, proof that Frank existed, that he was alive.

A curse that he could not disown without killing Gerard, too.


	16. Jumper

"They locked him up." Frank said, throwing the daily newspaper onto the table next to Gerard. Gerard expected Frank to look jubilous, but instead he had a deep frown set into his face.

"Frank, that's fantastic! That's what we wanted, right?" Gerard said, his voice coaxing. Ever since Frank had gotten home from the hospital, he'd been quiet, as if he were just a ghost masquerading as something more. He hadn't even touched his guitar, he would spend days curled up on the window seat, watching the ocean, as if trying to find a meaning that he hadn't seen before in its depths.

"They still haven't found my mom." Frank added, bitterly. Gerard's expression softened, and Frank scowled, "Don't look at me like that." 

"Like what?" Gerard asked, lightly.

"Like she's... She's..." Frank didn't finish, but he didn't have to. Gerard would hear him scream in the middle of the night, calling out to his mom, as if trying to save her from her fate like it was an oncoming train, and she was tied to the tracks. Gerard would wake him, and Frank would come crashing back into reality. Terrified and half-suffocated on his own fear.

Last night, it had been worse. Gerard had heard the first warning signs that Frank was trapped in a nightmare, when his breath started coming out in short gasps. Gerard tried to shake him awake, but Frank pushed him away, his limbs flying out like a hurricane. He started to scream, and Gerard held on to his arms to keep him from clawing at his own face, "Frank! Wake up, baby! Wake up!" Gerard yelled.

Frank snapped to, his eyes wild and lost. He looked around the room, taking it in in big gulps of breath. When he looked at Gerard, he was unfamiliar, unlike anyone Gerard had ever seen before. "... It was another nightmare." Frank whispered, his expression resigning itself to a pity party.

Gerard breathed a sigh, "You're alright now." And he wrapped his arms around Frank, running his fingers through his hair until he fell back asleep. 

Frank was staring at him now, and said, "Gerard, they are gonna try to take me away."

Gerard sat up straighter, his face paled, "What do you mean?"

"I am not 18, yet. They want to send me across the fucking country, to go and live with my aunt." Frank explained

Gerard blinked several times, trying to process the information, but everytime he ran through the idea of Frank having to leave, it didn't get any clearer. He got up from where he was sitting, starting to pace, "You can just stay here with me, I'll talk with a lawyer. They aren't going to take you away, Frank." Gerard said hurriedly, and then went across the room to grab the phone. "I won't let them!"

Frank was still staring out the window, "How deep do you think the water is out there?"

Gerard stopped dialing on the phone, an operator picked up in a monotone voice saying "The number you have dialed is incorrect. Please call again." He put the phone down, staring out at Dead Man's Point, that was just outside. People had put up a few crosses with flowers, dolls and picture frames, a make-shift grave site that looked too colorful for the macabre events that it was trying to memorialize.

Gerard frowned, "It's 50 ft. out there." He answered.

Frank seemed to come to a conclusion in his mind that he didn't say out loud, the only evidence of it, being the small nodd that he gave. "Why would you want to live next to something so sad?" He grumbled.

Gerard had asked himself that a few times, but ever since he had moved to the lighthouse, there had been fewer jumpers. It was like magic. Plus, it was peaceful, he had to admit. No one bothered him all the way out here. "It's quiet." Gerard replied.

"It's lonely." Frank said, looking back at Gerard with such a deep sorrow, the same type of sadness that the stars carry deep in their bellies, as they watch the universe expand without them. 

Gerard chuckled, but it was too forced, "Don't be silly, I have you." He stepped closer, and pushed a strand of dark hair behind Frank's ear, "You're all I need to keep me sane."

Frank pushed Gerard's hand away, and shook his head, "What happens if something happens to me?" Frank pushed, "Will you just sit up here, will you close yourself off again? What happens if I am not here to save you?"

Gerard was taken aback by this, "Frank, I don't need anyone to save me."

Frank glared at him, looking more and more agitated by the second, "Gerard, as much as you try to convince yourself, you're no one's savior."

"I never said I was!" Gerard exclaimed, exasperated, and then softened again when Frank looked like he was drawing back into himself. This was the most that he had spoken since they left the hospital, Gerard didn't want to lose him again. The silence was unbearable. "Frank, nothing is going to happen to you. We'll figure all of this out, just be patient with this."

Frank was looking at his shoes, "You're right..." He looked disinterested again, closed off like a roadblock, as if he were behind a wall of glass. "... It was just a stupid hypothetical."

.

Frank was determined. He felt like an angel with clipped wings, falling fast. 

Ever since he had gotten back from the hospital, he couldn't shake the feeling of being almost dead. It clung to him. Sometimes he wondered if people stared at him long enough, they'd see the mess that his mind was in, they'd see the soul of a dead thing. And that bothered him to no end, because maybe that was what he was supposed to be in the first place. He couldn't get rid of the idea that something else owned him, like Hades had his cold hands wrapped around Frank's mind, filling his brain with smoke, the world around him a house of mirrors. Reality felt like a trick of light.

Every night, he dreamt of his mother. They were back in the kitchen, sunlight pouring in through the window. It's the middle of June, the air is pregnant with thunderstorms and humidity. Cicadas buzz outside, and fireflies are dancing in the fields. Frank is sitting, watching his mother bake and she's humming a song, that Frank has forgotten the words to. A sense of despair fills his aching stomach, because how could he forget?

His mother won't look at him, it's like he's not even there. But she's happy, and Frank wants to jump into her mid-summer happiness, but it's like she's on the otherside of a veil. A place where Frank can't get to.

That's how Frank knew his mother was dead. The dreams. The nightmares.

Frank wasn't even angry about Eyeball anymore, they could find another record label, their band was incredible. They had a future. Someone else would inevitably sign them, Frank didn't have a doubt about that.

They'd just have to do it without him.

Frank watched Gerard, sleeping soundly next to him. His chest rising and falling, steadily. A metronome that helped Frank keep time with all of the static that lived in his veins. Frank shook him awake, Gerard groaned a little, "Ffffrank." Sleep dripped from his words. Frank smiled at him, "Did you have a nightmare?" Gerard asked, voice raspy and unused.

"No." Frank replied, simply. Gerard rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up. "I just wanted to let you know that you got to keep going." He said, his voice was calm and even. Frank could feel warmth at his back, he didn't have much time. A small orange glow was pulling him away from the blue shadows of their bedroom.

Gerard sat up straight, his eyes suddenly wide, "What do you mean?" He looked over Frank's shoulder, and panic crossed his pixie-like features, "Frank, what's going on?" 

"You'll take care of Mikey, right?" Frank continued, still remaining eerily calm.

"Of course I'll take care of Mikey, for fuck's sake, what the fuck did you do?" Gerard got up from the bed, and went over to Frank's side. "Did you take something?"

Frank stared up at him, Gerard was blurry around the edges, his dark form becoming a shadow figure. He was shaking Frank, crying out, "Frank! You can't do this to me, don't you fucking die on me-" he was begging, but the way he said it, sounded more like a hanged man's hymn. He already knew Frank's fate, and Frank could feel his tears falling onto his skin. Heavy, like rain drops.

"And you'll let Mikey take care of you?" Frank pushed.

"Why? Why would Mikey have to take care of me?" Gerard asked hysterically, "Frank, tell me how to fix this.

Frank only laughed, "Someone's gotta take care of you, Gerard." 

And that was when Frank, felt himself hit the water. 

.

Mikey nearly broke the door to Gerard's room down, Gerard woke up in a cold sweat, his heart practically leaping out of his chest. Gerard looked over to where Frank had been sitting in his dream at the edge of the bed, praying that he would still be there, but in his place, sat a crow. Its beady eyes looking up at Gerard with a knowing look, Gerard moaned, his face falling into his hands. Ignoring Mikey at first.

Mikey came over to him, and pulled his hands away from his face, his brother's eyes looked too scared for Gerard's liking, as Mikey said, "I just saw Frank." 

"Don't finish that." Gerard pleaded, "Don't tell me."

"He jumped." Mikey stated, and the crow let out a caw.


	17. In The Ambulance

Gerard hadn't registered where his feet were taking him until he was standing, looking out over the cliff face into the dark depths below. The usual sense of serenity that it brought him was gone, replaced with a deep, blood curdling fear that was threatening to take over him completely. Panic was pumping through his arteries turning them steely and cold, his breath tasted like metal against his throat. It was pouring rain, flattening his hair against his head, his clothes soaked to his skin, making him shiver.

Mikey was calling after him, but Gerard had already taken off towards the path that he took to go down to the beach below. Although, usually it was during the day, and without the torrential flooding. "Gerard! Stop, you're gonna get yourself killed!" Mikey was screaming, running after him. Gerard was jumping over rocks, slipping on mud that was loose beneath his bare feet. Mikey was at the top, still lingering, eyes wide with fear as he watched his brother hurtling hellbent on his suicide mission.

Gerard had to get to Frank as fast as he could, even though all logic said that there was no way that Frank could've survived the fall, since the world was cruel and took magical things away, snuffing them out like candle flames, Gerard was still naive enough to hope. There was a crash of lightning above him, thunder cracking like a whip. Gerard was almost at the bottom, when he felt his foot strike a loose rock, and it went tumbling out from underneath him. Gerard's breath caught in his chest, he was too shocked to even scream, as his foot twisted and he fell. A grotesque pop came from his ankle, Gerard went headfirst into the rocks, and then everything for a few moments was distant. He could hear Mikey yelling, but it felt like it was on the other side of a pane of glass. It only lasted a few seconds, before he came barreling back into reality with another roll of thunder. 

He stumbled to his feet, biting his lip to distract himself from the excruciating pain in his ankle, he felt blood well up from his lip, the smell of it made him a bit nauseous. The beach seemed to get farther and farther away, the pain growing exponentially with every step, for a second, Gerard feared that he might not make it.

But then he saw something floating in the water.

Adrenaline electrified his senses, and Gerard was dragging himself as quickly as his body would allow. The course sand beneath his feet burned the cuts in Gerard's feet that he had earned from the jagged rocks, but he didn't care, he waded out into the surf and squinted, trying to see the thing in the water better. Gerard's heart plummeted when he saw the curve of Frank's back, floating face down, his dark hair in tendrils around his head. Gerard let out a guttural, animalistic sound that could only of be described as agony, but was somehow so much more than that one simple word.

He felt like his entire being was being ripped apart.

Gerard didn't give it another thought, before diving into the surf, the rough current snatched at him, trying to drag him down into its dark depths, but Gerard kicked against it, fighting with everything he had. He kept seeing Frank, framed by moonlight, peaceful and still asleep in his bed. Frank, onstage, looking so alive and angry, that it made Gerard want to contribute to whatever chaos the universe held out to him. Frank. Beautiful, and a bit of a jerk, but a miracle, all the same. 

Gerard finally reached him, he fought to stay afloat, as he grabbed Frank and lifted him so that he was face up. Gerard began the journey back to shore, which wasn't far, and yet, still felt like light years away due to the pull of the ocean. It got to the point where the only thing that kept Gerard from letting it drag him down completely, was the constant voice in his head, whispering, "You have got to survive."

You have got to survive. You have got to survive. You have got to survive.

Miraculously, his feet hit solid ground, and he pulled Frank's water logged body up, his muscles burned after the strain from swimming, he felt absolutely wrecked now that he was on land. He pulled him a few more feet, before he stepped too fully on his hurt foot, and it gave out completely. Gerard collapsed to the ground, biting back a scream as searing pain pulsed up through his ankle. He looked back over at Frank, who's eyes were still open, and staring up at the sky, as if trying to find God.

"You can't do this to me." Gerard hissed, "Frank you can't fucking do this to me!" He screamed, he was too numb to cry, Gerard was in a tug of war with the logical and emotional side of his brain, as he fought to stay calm. His logical side won, as he realized that he had to perform CPR. Which, he wasn't sure how to do, although he'd read about it online, and seen it plenty of times in movies before.

Neither of those examples made Gerard feel any better. He leaned over Frank, and pressed his lips to his, and breathed out, then pumped on his chest hard, and then repeated this again, and again, and again. At some point he felt something crack beneath his hands, and cringed, realizing it must have been a rib. "I am sorry." Gerard apologized. Frank didn't respond, his body shook under the force of the pumps to his chest, but didn't move otherwise.

Gerard wasn't sure how long he kept this up, how long he prayed that Frank would be granted some sort of miracle, and that he'd cough up water, and come to, just like in the movies. He never did, though. Gerard was halfway through another repetition, before he met Frank's unseeing eyes again, and finally got slapped with the truth.

Frank was dead.

He stopped. His breathing ragged, his head frenzied. He stared down at Frank and back at the sea, he almost wanted to get up and scream at its uncaring waves, he wanted to demand the ocean to give Frank back to him, but she was just an observer, afterall. A distant mother, that had finally taken her son home.

Gerard rested his head on Frank's chest, and when he didn't hear a heart beat, he heard another sound, instead. It sounded like a wounded animal, it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, it was something unlike anything he had every heard before. It sounded like a spirit, breaking.

It took him a few moments to realize that it was coming from his own mouth. His whole body felt like it was going supernova, as if his heavy heart was going to fall through his ribcages, splitting the bones in two, until they were jutting out of his skin. His insides felt twisted, everything desperately begging for this to be a bad dream, as he buried his hands tighter into the wet cloth of Frank's T- shirt. Gerard shifted, sitting up now, he moved Frank so that his head rested in his lap, Gerard ran his fingers through his wet hair, and then closed Frank's eyelids, so that he could sleep.

"You're such a fucking jerk." Gerard scowled, but it was anything but indignant, and so when he said "jerk" it meant more along the lines of, "You were the best fucking thing that ever happened to me."

"You were the only thing in my life that wasn't awful." Gerard gasped, through another sob, even though Frank couldn't hear him, it still felt like it needed to be said, anyways. Gerard hoped that somewhere, in another star, maybe Frank was listening.

Gerard couldn't specify what he was feeling, it all felt too selfish to say out loud. Afterall, Frank was the one who was dead. Gerard pressed his forehead to Frank's, and tried not to shiver at his cold, clammy skin. He let himself be still, for a few minutes, they stayed like that.

Then, Gerard heard the distant scream of sirens, and the noise of falling footsteps. "Gerard, I called an ambulance-" Mikey exclaimed, between heavy breaths. Gerard looked up at his brother, wide eyed like a deer in headlights, Mikey stared back at him, as if he were a stray dog outside of a church, wild and a bit astranged. He looked down at Frank, and his whole face fell, "Oh god, oh Frank, oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" Mikey wrapped one of his arms around himself and squeezed his upper arm, like he always does when he's anxious. As if trying to remind himself that he was still alive, still inhabiting a body, and that he hadn't just been flung into deep space.

Blue and red lights flashed, illuminating the dark cliffside. It casted stark contours across Mikey's face, and when Gerard looked back down at Frank, his cheeks were hollowed out by shadows, making him appear almost ghostly. The paramedics were coming down the cliffside, and when they finally reached them, they strapped Frank into a stretcher. One of the paramedics, who was a plump woman with a heart shaped face, eyed Gerard worriedly, the way a mother would "Son, what happened to your forehead?" 

Gerard frowned, he was still watching the paramedics and officers buzzing about, as if they all knew some type of choreographed dance, the one paramedic asked him again, and Gerard finally lifted a hand to his own forehead, and felt hot liquid oozing from a gash in his skin, just above his eyebrow. "Oh... I think I fell."

Mikey looked like he was about to cry, as he said something to the paramedic, the paramedic nodded, and called another officer over. "We're taking him in, too." He said, evenly. Gerard hated the way they were discussing everything so calmly, as if everything that had happened that night was fine, even though it wasn't.

They loaded him onto a stretcher, Gerard was barely aware of this, as he was watching the one ambulance that was carrying Frank, pull away. It's sirens were off, though. "They don't have their sirens on." Gerard said, matter of factly.

The two EMTs shared a concerned glance to each other, "He's experiencing shock." One of them stated, as they put the stretcher into the back of another ambulance, Mikey climbed in. They shut the doors behind him.

Mikey took Gerard's hand, and moved strands of hair from out of his eyes, just like how Gerard used to do for him, whenever Mikey was little and got sick. It was weird, being in opposite positions. Gerard couldn't help but remember what Frank had said, in the dream.

"And you'll let Mikey take care of you?" Frank had asked, looking at Gerard the way the stars must look down at the Earth. Sadly, and full of longing.

Gerard blinked at his brother, and croaked out, "I wasn't enough."

Mikey shook his head, even though he was younger, he was always the wiser one. He simply replied, "You were more than enough." He paused, before sighing and adding, "Some things are just more than what we are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK U GUYS FOR READING THIS FAR, I LOVE Y'ALL 


	18. Macky's Bar

"He hasn't come out of there for fucking weeks." Mikey scowled, as they approached the hill that lead up to the lighthouse. The dirt path was dusty from a lack of rain, it seemed like the Earth had finally run out of things to cry about, and had left everyone in a hazy form of bliss. A breeze was blowing over the cliff, making the tall green grass and sunflowers sway, windchimes twinkled in the air like faery laughs. Mikey's gut twisted when Dead Man's Point came into view, he stopped in his tracks, everyone else paused, looking back at him.

Mikey hadn't been here since the funeral, he couldn't stomach it. The lighthouse was no longer the place where his brother and him spent June afternoons reading and messing with spirits, it was darker. Something to be forgotten, but bitterly, never would be.

Ray's expression grew gentle, Bob and Brian were both doing their best to keep their faces straight, to not show that they were struggling with this too. Everyone missed Frank. It felt like a Frank-shaped hole had been made in their reality, and it could never truly be filled. And since Frank had died, they had lost Gerard, too. It felt like the world was truly ending, slowly being swallowed whole by a black hole of grief. Ray walked over to Mikey, "We can turn back if you want to." He offered.

Mikey shook his head quickly, "No, he's been hiding up there long enough. Besides, this isn't about me." Mikey started walking, despite the growing tightness in his lungs as he marched his way up the path, the others having to take long strides to keep up with his long-legged brisk pace. "This is for Frank." Mikey said, loud enough, so that only he could hear.

.

They knocked on the door and for a little while there wasn't an answer. Mikey let out a long, slow sigh, anger flashing across his face for a brief moment. Ray cleared his throat, "Maybe there's a back door?" He suggested.

But Mikey had already started yelling up at one of the windows, he turned and bent down, scooping something up off of the ground, and then swung it at the window, the loud pop against the glass said it was a rock. "Open the fucking door, asshole!" Mikey yelled, and then picked up two more rocks, throwing them both, "You promised you wouldn't fucking do this to us!" Although, the way Mikey said "to us", sounded more like he meant to say, "to me." 

Faint cobwebs in the glass were starting to appear, Brian stopped Mikey before he could throw another rock, this one about the size of a fist, and shatter it completely. "Mikey, man, come on, settle down!" Brian said, holding him back. 

Mikey was about to argue, when the window opened. No one showed up in it though, they stood off to the side, out of reach. "What do you want?" Called Gerard's voice. It was raspy, and raw, almost like he had spent his time screaming at apparitions that appeared at the foot of his bed, instead of talking to actual people.

"I want to see my brother." Mikey answered, arms crossed over his chest. He sounded angry, but his face seemed almost broken, sadness seeping through all of the cracks in his composure.

"Now isn't a good time." Gerard said, and then a hand went to shut the window, on them.

"It isn't a fucking choice! This is an intervention!" Mikey fumed, and then turned and looked at Bob, "If you don't let us in, Bob will break the door down!" He threatened.

There was a pause, Bob's eyes had gone wide, but he didn't protest to Mikey's idea. He simply rolled his sleeves up, as if saying that he was prepared to do exactly that, although, Ray doubted that Gerard could see the gesture. 

"I'll be down in a minute." Gerard finally replied, giving in.

Mikey got a small smirk on his face, which was something Ray hadn't seen in weeks.

.

When Gerard opened the door to the lighthouse, Mikey's eyes immediately fell on his hair. It was newly dyed, and cut short, shorter than he had worn it before, the old, dark, messy strands were gone, replaced with shaggy, short, white hair. It made his face appear more gaunt, almost ghostly. He hadn't dyed it in so long, and Mikey got a sharp pang in his chest, either of sympathy or worry, that his brother was on the run from himself again.

"You changed your hair." Mikey said, just as everyone else greeted Gerard with friendly "hellos." 

Gerard was staring back at Mikey, a million things dancing in his expression, Mikey had seen enough of Gerard's unsaid words to know, that it all came down to one simple thing: "I am sorry."

Gerard cleared his throat, "Some change is good." and Mikey rolled his eyes at that.

"Are you gonna let us in?" Ray chimed in, a fake smile still plastered on his face. Gerard was still standing in the entrance, he looked hesitant for a brief moment, before giving in and letting them cross the threshold.

When they stepped inside, Mikey wasn't sure what hit him first, the newly painted black walls, or the crows that seemed to be sitting on every surface, that practically blended in with the black, making it seem as if the walls were moving. Brian let out a soft "holy shit", and Mikey thought that yeah, that was the only way to describe whatever it was he feeling at the moment.

"What is with the birds?" Bob asked, while eyeing one that was sitting on a book shelf next to him, as if it had jumped straight out of the pages of an Edgar Allen Poe novel.

Gerard seemed unfocused, as if he wasn't properly in this dimension, "They just sort of showed up." He answered. Then, undisturbed by this, he asked, "Would anyone like coffee?"

Brian muttered something about "not trusting anything in this household to be sanitary." And Bob nodded vehemently in agreement. Gerard was getting coffee anyways, before Ray placed a hand on his shoulder, and stopped him.

"Gerard, you're scaring us." Ray said, slowly. Mikey noticed the way Gerard's clothes seemed to hang from his frame, as if he were disappearing inside of them right infront of their eyes. It wasn't the hair that had made him look skeletal, Gerard just hadn't been eating. "When was the last time you left the house?" Ray asked. He looked down to Gerard's wrist, noticing the blue hospital tag that still circled it. As if that was a sufficient answer.

Gerard looked empty, like he was a ghost possessing his own body, "I can't sleep." was all he said, softly, not looking any of them in the eyes, "I keep seeing things."

"No offense, Gerard, but we're all grieving-" Ray started, Gerard looked at him and his face was full of hurt, but Ray continued, "And you loved Frank, and we know it's harder on you than the rest of us... but..." Ray's eyes danced over to Mikey, and Mikey suddenly went rigid, suddenly wishing he could disappear. "Gerard, we can't afford to lose you, too. Or else, we're really gonna be fucked."

Gerard was looking up at Ray, wide eyed, his chest rising and falling quickly, as if trying to relearn how to breathe properly, after weeks of drowning, "You have to let him go." 

"I don't know how, though." Gerard replied, voice meek and barely audible.

Mikey stepped forward and took Gerard by the shoulders, looking him the eyes, "You can start by taking a shower, and letting us take you out of this hell hole."

Gerard didn't answer out loud, but the small smile that crossed his face was a quiet and simple, "Okay." and that was all Mikey needed.

.

They ended up going to a local bar, called "Mackey's", as it seemed like the only logical thing to do. Gerard felt like an alien crash landing back on to Earth, although it was nice to see Mikey again. Everyone got drinks, and the noise of the bar made him jump every now and again. Brian had ordered too many wings for the table, and Bob had practically finished them all within the first 5 minutes, while Gerard picked at his share. Mikey watched him, a slight flush had bloomed on his cheeks, from the drinks, but he still seemed completely sober. Maybe it was the whole "our friend is dead, and my brother is walking on a tightrope of insanity", that was sobering to him.  
Either way, Gerard felt guilty for it. 

Ray and Brian were discussing Star Wars, and the conversation was so heated, it was laughable. "Jar-Jar Binks is a disgrace, Brian." Ray stated, seriously, taking another sip from his beer. Gerard was stifling a laugh, as Brian looked completely offended by fucking Jar-Jar Binks.

"I never said I liked Jar-Jar! Good god, who do you take me for?! I am just saying, the prequels were interesting!" Brian protested. Ray shook his head as Brian said this, and then covered his ears with his hands, like he was ten years old when Brian continued to talk, explaing how Ewan McGregor made a wonderful Obi- Wan. Mikey looked at Gerard with a funny smile on his face, and Gerard lost it. They both started cracking up, Gerard felt his stomach sting from the laughter, Ray and Brian looked at the two of them, bewildered.

"Did we miss something?" Ray asked, brows furrowed. 

Mikey snorted, patting Ray on the back, "You two are fucking beautiful." He laughed, and pulled out his camera, stealing a quick picture of Ray's confused expression. Ray only smiled sheepishly, at that.

It took Gerard a moment to realize that he was actually having fun, the usual feeling in his gut that always felt like something was missing, ever since Frank... passed, was somehow less demanding, as he listened to his friends talk. Lately, he had lost track of time, each day started and then ended without him really taking any notice of it, life had become an afterthought to Gerard, he wasn't even mourning, he was just slowly disappearing. But now, as he sat there, he felt more like his old self again. More in control.

"You okay?" Brian asked, taking note of Gerard's sudden quiet, contemplative state.

Gerard studied Brian for a moment, and smiled back at him, "I am great." He replied, genuinely.

Brian smirked, looking thoughtful, "It gets easier." 

Gerard's heart stuttered for a second, he hadn't been expecting Brian to say that, and now he was wishing that he hadn't, "How do you know?" Gerard asked, anyways. Even though he really wanted to drop the conversation, altogether.

"Because I am old and wise." Brian cackled.

"You're 27." Gerard pointed out, flatly.

Brian shrugged, "My brother died when I was 18. I know a thing or two about mourning."

Gerard's breath caught in his throat, threatening to choke him, "I am sorry." was all he got out.

Brian shrugged, "Like, I said," he took a sip from his beer, the foam clinging to his upper lip, "It's easy as pie."

Gerard got the distinct feeling that Brian was lying, although he wasn't sure why, or if it was more to Gerard, or to himself.

.

There was a storm that had rolled in suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck nearby, and the lights flickered, everyone in the bar got quiet for a few moments, until the lights returned to normal. Mikey got a twisted grin on his face, "This storm reminds me of the time Ray brought my fucking turtle back to life."

Ray spat out his drink, spewing his Guinness all over Brian's fries, Brian grunted and pushed the plate over to the side, "I call bullshit." Brian replied, raising an eyebrow at Ray, who was glaring at Mikey as if he were actually contemplating going full on Sweeney Todd on Gerard's brother.

"No! For real, Ray's a fucking genius! Gerard has seen the turtle!" Mikey nudged his brother in the arm, Gerard was staring back at Mikey with concern.

He placed a hand on Mikey's forehead checking to see if he had a fever, and then took the beer out of his hand, "Mikey, I think you've had enough to drink."

Mikey groaned, rolling his eyes, "Don't you remember Dr. Deathdefying?" He prompted. Gerard did, in fact, remember Dr. Deathdefying. Who had "died" when Mikey was 13, after he had come home from a school fieldtrip, only to find him stiff in the back of his terrarium. Mikey had cried about it for hours, holding the poor creature's shell in his hands, hiccuping in between tears. Gerard had patted his shoulder, and had taken him to get ice cream after he had settled down. A few days later, however, Mikey's turtle had miraculously reappeared. Mikey had told his mother that Gerard had simply taken him to get a new one, but Gerard had done no such thing. When Gerard had asked his brother about the ressurected turtle, Mikey had shrugged, and only said, "he wasn't dead, afterall."

Mikey must've seen this memory playing in Gerard's head, because he was grinning a bit smugly, he leaned in close, the alcohol that hung on his breath made Gerard gag, and his voice wasn't even a whisper, as he practically yelled into Gerard's ear, "He used the lightning!" and then pointed out the window beside them, Gerard followed his finger, just as another flash painted the sky in crackling white.

After that declaration, everyone at the table turned to look at Ray, who was busy studying the salt grains on the fries. Gerard cleared his throat, "Is that true?"

Ray looked up at him, and laughed a little awkwardly, before going, "No, I didn't just bring Mikey's turtle back to life." Ray replied, flatly. The rest of them let out a relieved breath, "I also brought my frog from biology back to life." Ray added, casually.

"No you fucking did not!" Bob spat, incredulously. "You're full of shit, Toro!"

Ray wasn't one to just simply lie though. And it wasn't like they didn't all know about the experiments he conducted on the side, one time he had flung himself off the church roof, to see if his jet pack would work. It didn't. He ended up breaking his arm. And that was only ONE example of his inventions gone wrong.

But what if one of them had actually gone right? The thought made the hairs on the back of Gerard's neck stand up.

Another flash of lightning struck, and the lights went out completely this time, everyone in the bar started yelling, until the manager came out and said that they had lost power, patrons could stay if they wanted, the storm was picking up outside. The whites of Ray's eyes were reflected in the moonlight, "It's simple science when you boil it down, electricity jump starts the heart, like a car." 

A waitress came around and placed a candle on the table, making Gerard jump, he was getting a bad idea in his head. Tales of ressurection were twisting his thoughts until they resembled something dark, something that almost was a plan. "Have you ever brought something back that's larger than a turtle?" Gerard dared to asked, before he could hold himself back.

They were all watching Ray, the candlelight casting long shadows across his face, turning his eyes into hollows, his expression grew dark, and he looked over at Brian. "I tried it on someone once..." Ray whispered, they all leaned in closer, except Brian who had gotten incredibly still, hardly even daring to breathe. "It didn't work, the lightning fried their nerves, it burned them up from the inside." Ray continued, "The cadaver was barely recognizeable by the end of it..."

They didn't say anything for a moment, all of them picturing the grisly scenario in their heads. The rain was pounding against the roof, until the world melted away into white noise. Gerard looked out the window, towards the cemetery down by the edge of the forest. Where Frank had been buried. A detached idea had taken life inside of his mind, and the more he tried to ignore it, the more it grew.

Thoughts of life after death all swirled around his head like a hurricane, and at its center was one thing: Frank.


	19. New Kid

Pete was not Gerard's favorite person, his smile was too wolfish and the way he played didn't fit the band, the way that Frank had, it was like trying to shove a puzzle piece into the wrong place. A Pete shaped puzzle piece that was currently sitting on Gerard's living room floor, eating pizza. "I am just saying, I think we should fix the bridge!" He said, in between a mouthful, he took another bite, cheese strung out from the pizza slice to his mouth.

"We aren't changing it. It's fine the way it is." Gerard scowled, his tone biting.

Mikey was rubbing his eyes, tiredly, his form draped over his bass. He looked up at Gerard with a glare, that said, "Do you HAVE to be so difficult?"

Gerard looked away from his brother, trying to ignore the way his blood was boiling in his veins. For the past month, Gerard had been either numbed or so angry, it felt like he was a high powered explosive. His jaw clenched, it wasn't that Pete was a bad guy, he just wasn't Frank. Gerard knew that the band was in desperate need of a new guitarist if they wanted to survive, but at the same time, it felt so wrong. The 5 of them had had a chemistry, ever since Frank had...

Gerard didn't finish that sentence off in his head. He must have spaced out, because the next thing he knew, Ray was shaking his shoulder, lightly. "Earth to Gerard, come back down here, man." 

Gerard blinked at his friend, and smiled meekly, "Right. I am here." 

"Lets take it from the top." Ray started, nodding at the rest of them. Pete got up from where he was sitting, wiping his greasy fingers off onto his jeans. Gerard tried not to be irritated, even though everytime Pete breathed in his direction, Gerard felt as if he was going to lose his mind.

Bob tapped his drumsticks together, and the guitars took off. Ray's playing was as wonderful as ever, soaring like an eagle through riffs and harmonies. Pete kept up, and Gerard tried to ignore the hollow space that was forming in his chest, the constant, nagging feeling, that no matter how hard they tried, it would never be like how it used to be.

They made it to the bridge without any problems, Pete was surprisingly holding his own. Gerard fell to his knees, getting absorbed in the song, screaming "And you could trade me for an apparition!" Holding the mic until his knuckles turned white.

Suddenly, Pete cursed, he fumbled through the next line, biting his lip as he tried to recover. The notes fell flat, like birds that had been shot down with a slingshot. Gerard stopped singing, frustration scribbling out his usually gentle features, he glowered at Pete. The rest of the band came to a halt, Mikey gave Gerard a warning glance, already afraid of what was about to come out of his brother's mouth.

"I can't play this." Pete finally blurted out. 

Gerard let out a bark of a laugh, "Frank could have..." He replied, everyone grew silent. Pete's cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned pinkish. Gerard felt bad for saying the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"Pete..." Ray began, but Pete waved him off. He took his guitar from off his shoulder, and practically threw it to the ground. Mikey cringed, visibly at the mistreatment of the equipment.

"Fuck. This." Pete growled, and then stormed off.

Everyone turned to look at Gerard, expressions varying degrees of pity and agitation. "I am sorry..." Gerard apologized, but it wasn't enough. They all were so exhausted, and Gerard had the growing feeling like this was all going to fall apart.

And it was going to be his fault.

"I need a minute to think." Gerard spat out, and didn't wait for a reponse, as he sat the mic down and took off.

.

Gerard had converted his old room that he had used for painting, into a study. There were books scattered and stacked in every way imaginable, on practically every surface. Some had coffee ring stains, others were dog eared to specific pages, and some hadn't been opened yet. Dust covered their thick spines and covers, notebooks were left open with pages worth of writing on them. Gerard had tacked notes onto the walls, until the whole room resembled something that a detective would use to track down a serial killer.

The papers read different things such as "Proof Of The Afterlife," "The Circulatory System," "The Science Behind Frankenstein." Gerard had strings running from one paper to another on the wall, until a bunch of them criss-crossed like ley lines. 

He still had no proof that what he wanted to do would actually work. He lacked the courage to ask Ray for help, so he was trying to do it on his own.

Gerard walked over to the windowsill, and opened it, it squeaked in protest. Outside, he had a cord that was tied to the lightning rod on the roof, the string led to a small container, where currently, a dead cat was resting, it's orange fur tinged with dirt and congealed blood. Gerard grimaced, he didn't like the idea of handling dead animals more than anyone else, but it was for science.

It was for Frank.

All there was to do was wait until the storm rolled in, which was supposed to happen somewhere around 8 p.m. later that night. Then, he'd be able to see if his new approach would work better than the last. Last time, he had operated on a frog, and instead of reanimating the corpse, it had just made the body twitch vigorously, before it basically spontaneously combusted. Gerard had had nightmares about it for weeks.

So, Gerard got to work, checking math and making sure everything was in place. He had been up in the attic for what felt like hours, when a soft knock tapped against the door. Gerard immediately stilled, his heart stopping. 

"Gerard, are you in there?" It was Mikey. His brother's tone was concerned, and Gerard realized he only had a few more moments before Mikey barged in on him. 

Gerard hadn't shown Mikey his little project, yet. It seemed sort of disturbing to bring up over dinner, and the more he worked, the more he got the idea that he was going sort of insane. However, he didn't need Mikey to confirm that for him. "What is it?" Gerard finally answered.

"Everyone else left, do you have a minute to talk?" Mikey asked.

Gerard raced across the room, tearing papers down and throwing a sheet over the container that was holding the poor cat, shoving it underneath his desk. "Of course, one second!" Gerard called out, trying to sound normal. He looked around the room one last time, before yanking the door open, just as Mikey was pushing it forward. They both let out gasps when they practically ran headfirst into each other.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" Mikey asked, peaking over Gerard's shoulder. 

Gerard stepped back to let him in, "Just studying." He shot back. Mikey frowned over the tops of his glasses at the surrounding room, his nose crinkling in blatant disgust.

"It smells like something fucking died in here." Mikey gagged, and went over to open the window. Gerard stopped him before he could, not wanting him to see the cord, or to knock it off of its metal placeholders.

"What did you want to talk about?" Gerard cut him off, before he could question him.

Mikey's expression changed to a more tentative one, as he said, "You gotta lay off Pete, Gee."

Gerard felt his insides twist, he went over and sat in his chair, flopping into it, and sliding down so that his butt was almost hanging off of it, as if he were a child. "I am trying." He finally replied, running his hands through his short cropped hair.

Mikey raised an eyebrow at him, "I know it's hard, but this is what Frank would have wanted." 

Gerard's tone turned icy, as he hissed, "No... Frank wanted to get signed to Eyeball." He sat up, and grabbed a small DnD figurine from off of his desk, "that's all he ever wanted..."

The room got quiet, the tension suddenly thick. Mikey bent down and plucked the figurine from Gerard's hands, examining it's metallic sheen and the small sword that it held, his eyes were hard to read but he looked faraway, "Frank left us. We can't just stop living because of what he did, Gerard." He looked up, his expression hard as he added, "You're still important, with or without Frank. You're still alive."

Gerard shifted, uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to reply, when he was cut off by a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder. He jumped from where he was sitting, and hurriedly said, "You have to go." And then started to push Mikey out the door.

Mikey dragged his feet, protesting, "Why do I have to leave?! What is so important?"

"Mikey! I am busy!" Gerard bit back, the way he used to when he was a teenager and Mikey was intruding on him, whilst he listened to Smashing Pumpkins and got drunk. A nosey little brother and a secretive older brother. Two sides of the same coin.

Gerard closed the door quickly, locking it behind him. Mikey banged on the door, and shouted curses at him, as Gerard flew to grab the cat from underneath the protective sheet, tying the cord back around its hind legs. He sat the container in the middle of the room, and went to look out the window. Lightning was streaking across the sky, silver and violent.

He waited, and wait, crossing his fingers that a bolt would strike the rod at the top of the lighthouse. Mikey had gone quiet on the otherside of the door, but Gerard was so wrapped up in praying for chaos, that he hadn't noticed.

That is, until Mikey tackled him from behind. Gerard let out a yelp, as his brother forced him to the ground, holding his hands behind his back, "Let me go, asshole!" Gerard yelled, indignantly.

"Why is there a dead fucking cat in your room?! What the hell have you been doing up here?!" Mikey demanded, his grip on Gerard's wrists growing tighter by the second. He might've been skinnier and less strong than Gerard was, but his long legs made it impossible to shake him off, so Gerard just sat there, begrudgingly. Keeping his mouth shut, he looked up at the sky through the window, and could see that the storm was passing. Disappointment and frustration pooled in his chest, this would be the 4th time that he had missed. He was starting to grow desperate. 

"Answer me!" Mikey ordered, tugging on Gerard's hair until he cried out, pain shooting through his scalp.

"Okay! Okay! I'll tell you! Just, get off of me!" Gerard gave in, Mikey didn't move for a few seconds, and Gerard sighed, disgruntled, "Please?" 

Mikey finally rolled off of his brother, but still pinned him down with a wary scowl that he was wearing on his face. Gerard got up and dusted himself off, looking to the container in the middle of the room that was holding Mrs. Mulligan's dead cat, and then back to Mikey. He realized that he wasn't exactly sure where to start.

And so, he cut right to the point, deciding he had no where else to run, his brother had backed him into a corner. Might as well come clean, "I am trying to bring this cat back to life using electricity."

Realization dawned on Mikey's face, and then it shifted into horror. "Like how Ray brought Dr. Deathdefying back?"

"Exactly." Gerard replied. 

"But Gerard... Why?" Mikey stammered, although the look he was wearing said that he already knew the answer.

Before Gerard could respond, there was an Earth rattling crash, a buzzing sound shot through the air, and the hair on their necks stood on end, Gerard watched in shocked eagerness, as electricty crackled in the air and zipped through the cat.

For a few seconds, it shook, and shook, and shook, until the buzzing sound stopped and the static left the air. Mikey's hair fell back down against his head, it was frizzy and looked as if he had run a balloon all over it, he was staring at the cat with wide eyes and a sickened expression. Gerard's heart fell, when the creature didn't show signs of life. He let out a frustrated cry, kicking the wall with his boot. "Dammit!" Gerard cursed, running ideas through his head, about what could've made the experiment go wrong. 

"I know what you want to do... But you can't bring him back." Mikey interrupted his thoughts. Gerard's head snapped up to him, his eyes wild and almost maddened. Mikey tried to shake the unnerving feeling that it gave him, "Gerard, you gotta listen to me. Frank is gone!" Mikey continued, watching as Gerard let his head fall into his hands.

"I have to try, Mikey." Gerard croaked, when he removed his hands, his face was crooked. Like a reflection in a mirror, an almost-version of Gerard that looked off in a strange way, that Mikey couldn't put his finger on.

"No, you aren't God." Mikey scowled, "This is fucking insane. I shouldn't have brought up that stupid turtle in the first place..." 

Gerard didn't respond, he had grown very still. He had felt something brush up against his ankles, something soft, warm, and most certainly-

alive.

When he looked down, he saw the tabby cat. Eyes wide and hazel staring up into his own, it let out a quiet "meow", before darting to go hide underneath the desk. Mikey had looked up and seen the thing as well, Gerard met his brother's eyes, both boy's looked as if they had seen the devil.

"I can't believe it... you did it." Mikey breathed, his brow furrowed in utter shock and disbelief. Bright yellow euphoria was shooting through Gerard's veins, as it hit him, that he had succeeded, that what Mikey and Ray had said, had been true all along.

You could bring dead things back to life. You could control where the story ends...

and where it picks back up.

.

"Wait for me!" Mikey called out, as he ran to keep up with Gerard. Gerard was marching onward, a shovel gripped tightly in his gloved hands, as if it were a weapon. Mikey caught up with him, and worriedly said, "I don't like that look on your face."

Gerard swung the shovel so that it leaned against his shoulder, wearing a dark smirk, "This is my party face."

"Since when are graveyards parties? Last time I checked, corpses make poor guests." Mikey joked.

"Since we've been raising the dead." Gerard replied, sharply. His voice was too smug, as the two brothers made their way through the thick fog that was settling over the town. A pockmarked moon hung overhead, watching with silver tears in her eyes. Crows sat in the trees, narrators of a story, that was drawing near to its bitter end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was writing this from my basement closet, because I am a midwesterner, and I live in a tornado!!! (Tornado sirens have been going off all night. It's been real, y'all.)


	20. Tomb Robber

The cemetery, despite being a resting place, was anything but quiet. Owls cooed from up in their trees, yellow eyes peering out of the dark branches, whilst coyotes giggled and screamed giddily from the heavy barrier of trees that stood, forebodingly, just beyond the graves. Sunflowers were starting to take over the paths, some of the headstones were being swallowed whole by moss covered roots, from trees that had sprouted without warning. 

Gerard and Mikey walked, silently. Gerard marched with the ease of a black cat on a windowsill, striding along the tombstones like a shadow figure. Mikey followed, holding his shovel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He grabbed his camera, snapping pictures here and there, comforted by the flash that illuminated the darkness for a few moments. The statues of angels and saints watched them, mournful eyes of marble following, knowing the mischief in their steps meant they were up to no good.

Frank's grave was towards the back, next to his family plots'. His was the smallest headstone, almost as if It didn't want you to notice it, at first. As if it would rather you keep on walking, and to just leave it alone. Once you saw it though, you noticed the roses that were left all over it, small coins and even food were placed carefully on the freshly dug up Earth, along with notes written in a careful scroll that said "Miss you". Small, purple wild flowers were starting to grow over it, like a blanket. A willow tree was standing nearby, its slender figure hung over the grave site, as if stuck in a perpetual cycle of mourning. As Mikey looked up at Gerard, who's eyes were lit with something next to madness, he got the feeling that Gerard was stuck in a grief like that, too.

Mikey feared what would finally snap his brother out of it, and if it would be in time to save his soul.

.

"So, what? Do we just start digging?" Mikey asked, cracking the quiet night that surrounded them like an eggshell.

Gerard's heart was beating so loudly, he could hear it in his own ears. He worried that its pulse might wake some of the spirits that were sleeping around them. He looked around, as if checking to make sure that they were really alone. Even though no human was around for miles, the empty cemetery still felt crowded. Gerard looked back to his brother, "...I guess." Was all he said.

Mikey pinched the bridge of his nose, and then flung his hand out at the grave, "You guess?! You had us come all this way, possibly violating several trespassing laws, all on a guess?!" He shouted, incredulously.

Gerard glared at him, "I know what I am doing." He spat back, gripping his shovel tighter. The burning sensation that had been residing in his gut for the past month, firing back up again. Sending sparks shooting across his body, like a firecracker.

"Are you sure, Gerard? Because I think you might be losing it a little!" Mikey growled back, his teeth grinding, the column of his throat tightening. They stood there, in a stand off, seeing who dared to move first.

Gerard did. He motioned towards the way they came, a fog had crept over the cemetery, blocking the view of the exit. "You can go home, if you want. But don't try and stop me, Mikey." Gerard said, and then stabbed the soft dirt beneath them with his shovel, "I am doing this with or without you."

Mikey inhaled, slowly, for a second Gerard feared that he would really leave him. He wasn't sure if he could do this on his own, his mind felt like it was in rags, his soul strung out like road kill on a highway. But then, his shovel struck the Earth right beside Gerard's, he looked up at Mikey with a shocked expression. "Lets get this over with, asshole." Mikey grunted.

.

The muscles between Gerard's shoulder blades were burning, they had been digging for what felt like hours, and they weren't even nearly close to being done. The smell of rain was perfuming the air, a storm blooming from the mouth of a flower, as the clouds opened up and started to drizzle. Rain was running off the bridge of Gerard's nose, and down his chin, the shovel handle was slick, and when he went to shove it back into the ground, his hands slipped and he staggered forward. Mikey caught him by his shirt, pulling him back up. "We should go home." Mikey whispered, he was shaking slightly, either from cold or from nerves.

Gerard felt a tug in his chest, his brotherly instincts kicking in, telling him to take Mikey home, to take care of him and keep him safe. But even that wasn't enough to make him stop. He didn't reply, they both went back to digging.  

.

The drizzle had picked up to a downpour, they had made lots of progress, but the rain was making it hard to see. The ground above them was pouring in, loose dirt turning to mud and soaking Gerard's legs up to his ankles. Mikey had climbed up out of the grave and was yelling at Gerard from above, "This has gone too far!" He fought to be heard over the storm.

"I can't give up now!" Gerard screamed back, frantically moving as he fought the mud, sliding as he went, everything in his body felt desperate, like there was a time bomb strapped to his chest and he had only seconds left to disarm it.

Mikey had jumped back down into the grave again, wrapping his arms around Gerard's chest and pulling him back, making Gerard drop his shovel, "Gerard! You gotta let this go!" Mikey's voice was pleading, Gerard shoved him off.

"You don't fucking understand!" Gerard bared his teeth, feeling almost feral, as he picked the shovel back up. "I couldn't save him, and now I am so close to making up for what I couldn't do before! I can bring Frank back, I can fix everything!" He cried out.

Mikey watched him, fear dancing in his eyes like a kaleidoscope. "This is turning you into something you're not..." He swallowed, thickly.

Gerard cut a glare at his brother, expression dark, he didn't even look like himself. The more he spoke, the more he felt something slip away from him, something important. 

Perhaps it was sanity. Now, his soul felt like a burning ferris wheel, an open wound.

"What am I, then?" Gerard hissed, lightning with no trace of thunder lit up the hole around them, flashing off of their faces like a search light.

"... Not someone that I know... Definitely not my brother." Mikey responded, quiet, but just loud enough so that the words drove themselves through Gerard's heart like a stake.

"Get the fuck away from me." Gerard growled, looking down at the ground, not meeting Mikey's eyes. If he did, he was sure he was going to do something he regretted.

"Gerard, wait-" Mikey reached out for him, apologies written all over his face, but Gerard didn't care. 

He smacked Mikey's hand away, and screamed in his face, his brother's expression turning from shocked to hurt, "I said get the fuck away from me, Mikey!" Gerard's voice tore from his throat, like something stolen from the darkest part of the night sky. Full of pain, and rage, like a rat that had been caged for too long, finally ripping free.

Mikey stormed off, and Gerard watched his back as he got out of the grave, hunched over with his arms over his chest, as he shivered and walked off into the night, the fog swallowing his figure whole. Gerard got goose bumps as the night seemed to weigh on him heavier than before, without his brother there to help carry the load of it. He turned though, and resumed digging, his mind tuning out and wandering back off to that night on the cliff. When Frank had jumped, holding his hand until the ambulance came, and running his fingers through his hair-

and then there was a loud thud, his shovel had hit something solid. The rain stopped. Gerard's heart skipped a beat, and he dove to the ground, moving dirt aside until he could see the shiny cover of the coffin below. He worked until the lid was exposed, and carefully pried it open. A foul smell of rotting flesh and decay hit him, and Gerard couldn't stop himself from vomiting. Bile stinging his lips, as he wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. He covered his nose with his shirt, and pulled the duffelbag that he had brought, out from where had been keeping it. "I am sorry about this." Gerard muttered, as he picked up the corpse. He tried not to look at it too hard, his skin was blue and eaten away, his lips purple, but the worst part was that he was freezing cold, it caught Gerard so off guard, that he almost dropped Frank, but he got a hold of himself before he could freak out, and dutifully moved him into the bag. Gerard zipped it up, and then pushed it over the side of the hole, climbing up out of it and taking a look around.

A wave of satisfaction and horror washed over him, as Gerard realized what he had done. For a second he had wished that he had just listened to Mikey, and that he would have gone home and moved on with his life. That he would've learned to let Frank go, just like everyone else who loses someone does.

But Gerard didn't want to spend his entire life grieving, made into a professional mourner. So, he picked the bag up and tried to ignore the way it didn't feel anything like Frank. It felt uninhabited as if Frank had never occupied the bones in the first place. Like Frank was somewhere far away, in another star, in a parallel universe, somewhere Gerard could never get to. Gerard pushed those thoughts away, making his way back through the cemetery, the tombstones that surrounded him like teeth in the jaws of a monster, waiting to devour him whole.


	21. Resurrection

Muddied boot prints were left all the way up the stairs to the attic, the light house was pitch black, the moon nowhere to be seen, transforming everything into a world of shadow. Gerard finally made it to the study, his muscles on fire from having carried the body bag the entire way, adrenaline was turning him into a frenzied mess, as he looked out the window, checking the weather.

The storm had passed, Gerard realized, his stomach plummetting. There was no way that he was going to be able to wait for another, he closed his eyes, leaning out the window so much, that it appeared he may fall at any second. He prayed for rain, for typhoons and hurricanes and lightning that rattled God's window panes.

When Gerard opened his eyes again, there was a crow sitting on the window beside him. Ever since Frank had died, Gerard had a growing resentment towards the crows, he scowled at the feathery creature, "What do you want?"

The crow ruffled its wings, looking almost bored, "You wanted to see me." Was all it said. Gerard looked from the crow to the sky, which was still devoid of any lightning. 

"Can you bring a storm in?" Gerard asked, slowly, his voice tinged with the same desperation as a starving beggar.

The crow almost seemed to laugh at Gerard, "I could, but I won't."

Gerard felt rage explode in his ribcage, "Why not?" 

"You're turning into the monster that you're trying to create." The crow replied, simply, "But if you really wish for me to call down a storm, then I will. But I think we both know that this isn't what you want." 

Gerard wasn't looking at the crow, he was looking back at Frank, or the duffelbag. It was laying on the floor in the center of the room, seemingly normal and uninteresting at first glance. No one would know the horror that it contained, no one except Gerard. Doubt flooded his system for a moment, until another image of Frank smiling at him over cups of coffee, while he played guitar flashed behind his eyelids. The memory so vivid, it was almost blinding. Gerard turned back to the crow, determination written over his face, "Don't tell me what I want." He snarled.

The crow sighed, almost unsurprisedly. "I was hoping you were better than this." It said, absentmindedly, as if remembering a far off memory, bitter-sweetly. The crow cawed, and lightning flashed, blindingly, across the sky, knocking Gerard back from the window, thunder shook the lighthouse and the floor boards that Gerard was standing on. The crow was gone when the room darkened once again.

Gerard let out a holler of triumph and quickly got to work, laying out the cords and grabbing a table out from a corner, throwing a linen white sheet over it. Gerard took the corpse out from the duffelbag, and set it up on the table, trying to ignore the way his stomach was flipping in disgust. His human instincts screaming at him to get as far away from the grotesque thing as possible. But it was Frank, he told himself.

Frank would never hurt him.

When everything was lined up and in order, Gerard nodded to himself, taking one last look around the room. The last thing he did, was grab another sheet, and threw it over Frank, as if he were tucked smuggly into bed. Sweat dotted his brow, and a few beads ran down the sides of his face, he quickly wiped them away onto the back of his hand. Now, all he had to do was wait for a bolt to strike the roof.

He paced anxiously, as the storm drew itself out. Each thunder coming longer and longer after each lightning, the storm was starting to fade, and Gerard was getting worried that it would give out soon. 

Something drew his attention away though, at first he thought it was thunder, but the rhythm was too steady and constant, as it thump, thump, thumped, seemingly getting closer to Gerard. Gerard realized that they were footsteps too late, as the door to the study crashed down, figures were silhouetted in the dark, one came barelling towards Gerard. Gerard registered pain crackling up his spine, as he was thrown against the wall, his head hitting the wood, and making colors bloom in his vision. "What the hell did you do, Gerard?" It accused, although the voice was more frightened than angry. Gerard recognized that it was, Bob.

The voices behind him came ringing in with sudden clarity, as Gerard realized that it was Mikey and Ray, who were both desperately trying to dismantle the work that Gerard had done. Bright hot red bursted in Gerard's chest, as he started to scream like a dying man, "Don't touch that! Don't fucking touch my work!" He cried out, kicking and pushing against Bob, but Bob had a firm hold on Gerard's limbs, holding him still until his grip felt almost bone crushing.

The two boys stopped what they were doing, fright plainly visible on their pale faces as they took in their friend. "Gerard, we can't let you do this." Ray started, slowly, "It isn't right, this isn't what he would've wanted."

Gerard shook his head, still struggling in Bob's grip, everything in him fighting to get free. "Don't tell me what he would've wanted! I know what he would've wanted!" Gerard screamed, as if possessed.

Just then, something connected with Gerard's jaw, pain sparking through his skull, the taste of blood metallic on Gerard's tongue, "He was our friend, too!" Bob yelled, flicking his hand to relieve the hurt that was pulsing through it. Gerard had sunk to the ground, his hand absently at his jaw, feeling the swollen skin beneath his fingertips. He spat out blood onto the floor, staining the wood beneath him with crimson splatters.

"Bob! Don't hurt him, he's not himself right now!" Mikey cried out, pushing Bob away. He got down onto the floor, concern marking the lines crease on his forehead, "Are you okay?" Mikey asked, quietly, reaching out to help Gerard.

Gerard glared at his brother, "You brought them here didn't you?" 

Ray let out a bark of a laugh, "Of course he did! Because you're trying to go all Pet Sematary on Frank's fucking corpse!" He pointed over at the table, his expression growing dark, a memory playing behind his eyelids, that gerard could almost see. Undead things, the smell of bleach and blood, too sterile and too putrid, that it burned your nostrils. Electricity flooding through veins until it made them burst, whilst God watched disinterested from heaven. "This isn't something you play with, Gee. I know how this ends, and it isn't pretty... it's demonic." 

Gerard looked up, eyes wide and horrified, lightning flashing through the skylight above them, marking his face with bright white paranoia, "Maybe it will turn out different this time-" he started, but Ray cut him off.

"No! No it fucking won't, Gerard!" His voice rising so that it could be heard above the storm, "You can't bring him back! He isn't a fucking doll, you can't fix this!"

Gerard was in tears, they flooded his eyes and spilled over in heavy drops. Ray looked over at Bob, and nodded. Bob held Gerard's hands behind his back, "What are you doing?" Gerard gasped, thrashing in Bob's grip. He watched as Ray continued to take apart the machine. Mikey was still as a statue, the only thing that moved were his shoulders as silent sobs wrecked his body, his eyes not moving from Gerard. As if he were truly the thing that had just been dug up from a grave, and not Frank's corpse.

"We're saving your life." Was all Ray replied with, as Gerard screamed for him to stop. Then, suddenly, before Ray could dismantle the contraption completely, a sickening shockwave shook the lighthouse. The familiar sound of electricity shooting through the metal wires, Ray dropped it just in time before it could electrocute him, as light flooded the room, and the smell of burning flesh wafted through. It was enough to make their eyes water, Mikey gagged, covering his nose to protect himself from the awful scent.

Gerard watched in awe, as Frank's corpse contorted and twisted in horrific ways. If he listened hard enough, he thought he could hear angels and dying things screaming in the sound of the electricity, it sounded like chaos. It almost sounded musical, like something -

Beautiful.

The flashing stopped, the air finally falling stale again. The only trace of what had happened was the awful smell. Everyone was breathing heavily, in horrified anticipation as they all stared at Frank's body. Bob's grip had grown slack, and Gerard wrestled away from him, practically clawing his way across the floor, as he brought himself over to Frank. The white sheet was covering most of him, but his face peaked out from under it. His dark hair messied, but still the same, Gerard moved a strand of it away. "Frank, can you hear me?" He asked, shakily.

There was no reply. "Gerard-" Ray began, but Gerard scrambled up, grabbing a stethoscope, and pressing it up to Frank's cold chest. There was nothing, his chest cavity devoid of any sound, as if Gerard had pressed his ear up against the ground, there wasn't even any traces of hell, just silence. 

Ray pulled him away, "He's gone. He's gone, Gerard." Gerard felt tears fall onto his shoulder, where Ray's head was pressed, Gerard was too shocked and numbed to do anything but stare at Frank's unmoving body. 

"I failed him. This is all my fault." Gerard breathed, sinking to his knees, "God, what have I done?" He moaned, pressing his face into his hands.

A terrible feeling was the only thing that filled the room for a few minutes, until mikey suggested, "We need to bury him." They all looked up at him, Mikey shrugged, "It seems like the logical thing to do."

Ray laughed, "Nothing about any of this is logical, we abandoned logic a long ass time ago."

Gerard shook his head, "Mikey's right."

Bob sighed from the corner of the room, "I'll go grab the shovels."

.

The ceremony was silent and somber. Just four boys gathered around a hole in the ground, that they had dug in the center of the sunflower field. The tall flowers standing beside them, dawn was starting to peak through the clouds above them, turning the sky to a heavenly shade of pearl and gold. They all had placed sunflowers on the grave, and had gotten a small wooden D.I.Y. cross, that they had stuck into the ground. A picture of the virgin mary taped to it, her eyes solemn and mournful, as she prayed over the grave.

None of them spoke a word, the truth hanging over them like a noose that would surely choke them if they let the events of that night escape from the vaults of their ribcages. Mikey put his hand around Gerard's shoulder, exhaustion finally finding its weight in Gerard's body. His muscled burned and ached, his mind felt completely destroyed.

The rage from the past month was finally gone, and Gerard felt like himself once more. The only thing left in his burnt up body, was a bone-tired feeling, that he wasn't sure would ever go away. It would haunt him for the rest of eternity.

They all headed back towards the lighthouse, just as the sun was making its full appearance above the horizon. Their backs turned, minds trying to claw their way to places that were anywhere but the center of that sunflower field, they did not see what was happening.  

Soil shifting as if something was growing beneath it, the sound of a choked voice screaming from 6 feet beneath the sun. Crows were hopping around the grave site, like morticians, as a hand, pale and purple, erupted from the ground.


	22. Switchblade Fights

Frank felt as if he were sailing through a dark sea, fog settling over his thoughts, making them hard to differentiate between dreams or reality. He dimly wondered what death would be like, if angels of unknown would beckon him into a kingdom of gold, or if it would be nothing but an eternity pigmented by bruised darkness and the echo of long extinguished stars. 

He realized, to his astonishment, that he could not be wondering this if he were dead. However, he definitely wasn't alive. He was a consciousness occupying an empty space, and it stayed like that for a while, until he started to get his hearing back. Slowly, the world tuned itself, like a radio channel returning from white noise. Car engines rattled faintly above him, and the sound of Frank's heart beat pulsed in his own ears.

Next, he started to get feeling in his limbs. His fingers twitched painfully, along with his toes. His arms panging with dull aches, that made him feel as if he had been brought back from the dead. 

There was a new feeling though, one that Frank didn't recognize. It started in his stomach, a cauldron of something that tasted like... hunger. But not a hunger that he recognized. The more he gave thought to it, the more his brain flooded with thoughts of... something too horrible to fully name. So, he distracted himself. Frank lifted his arms up and was met with something solid, telling him that he was in an enclosed space. For a second his mind flickered back to the closet and panic pulsed through his entire being, as the darkness seemed to fit him too familiarly. 

He felt around, taking deep breaths to try and escape the tight feeling around his lungs, however, the more he breathed the shallower his breaths seemed to get. The area around him was smooth, definitely made from wood. Splinters poked at the soft pads of Frank's fingers, the pain was a welcome feeling though. It proved that Frank really existed, although where that was, he wasn't very sure.

Frank's mind was still cloudy, his memory was coming back in flashes. A face popped into his head, one that made his chest collapse with a feeling of tenderness, and something else, that felt more like regret. A deep sorrow that Frank couldn't place a cause on, brought tears to his eyes, as a name was put to the face.

Gerard.

Gerard, eyes full of pain, like statues of the virgin mary. Tears marking his pretty features, until he looked like a broken saint. He was calling out for Frank, his face masked in so much horror that it made Frank's gut twist.

The memory of waves and water flooding Frank's lungs came back to him, and it was then, that Frank remembered the cliff. The one out by the lighthouse, the watery, dark depths below it. Frank remembered stepping off, and then-

nothing.

A horrible realization came over Frank like a spell, as he figured out where he was. The wooden bed around him becoming clear now. "I am in a coffin." Frank thought to himself, his tongue turning cakey as he did. "I've been fucking buried alive." 

Fear gripped Frank's stomach, primal and instinctive, as he realized the weight of his situation. Stories flashed through his mind, of how back in the old days, people were buried alive so often that they had bells attached to their graves, so that the living dead could ring them, to summon their loved ones, to desperately let the overtakers know that they were still there. That they were alive, alive, alive.

"Help!" Frank croaked, his throat burned, rubbed raw from choking in saltwater. He tried again, ignoring the pain, "Please! I am still here!" He cried out, louder. The pleas turned into violent screams, as Frank pounded against the wood. It became heart breakingly apparent to him, that no one could hear him. Frank might as well of been on a whole other planet completely, the living world was far off, a distant dream that hung off the tip of his tongue, like a pill that he dry swallowed.

For a moment, Frank thought it easier to just lay still until the coffin ran out of oxygen and he suffocated. But again, Gerard popped back into his mind. Visions of Gerard drawing, or brushing his hair away from his eyes, a face so wonderful that even Leonardo Di Vinci, couldn't have painted it, were stuck in Frank's head.

Frank realized that he could not stay here, not without at least trying to get back to Gerard. "Think, Frank. You have got to think!" He said to himself. He felt around the lid, pushing against it, carefully. The lid was already bowing slightly under the weight of the dirt above him. Frank realized that he could probably break it, and create a way out of the coffin, if he hit it hard enough.

Or, he could trap himself inside of the thing completely, and would surely suffocate on worms and animal bones. The thought made him nauseous with nerves.

Still, it was worth a shot. Frank closed his eyes and sent a prayer up to God, hoping that he was listening somewhere from his telephone box up in the sky. "Please, be listening just this once." He begged. With that in mind, Frank took a breath for courage, even though it didn't make him feel any braver, especially since he knew his air supply was incredibly limited. He paused, before sending a kick to the lid. It let out a creak, and Frank cringed at the noise, before sending another kick to it, a deep groan sounded from the wood, it was bowing considerably, already. Frank's heart beat picked up, "This is it." He thought, before hitting it one last time.

The wood gave way. Dirt started spilling through the hole, Frank desperately started to shift, so that he could move the soil away. He slowly, parted the dirt until he could pull himself up and out of the hole that he had made, dirt was clogging his throat, as he desperately tried to breathe around the debris. He was drowning in the smell of dark Earth, as he clawed his way, in a direction that he hoped was up. Frank wondered if this was what falling through quicksand felt like, and if this was truly what all of those cartoon shows were warning him about, back when he was 7 years old.

He didn't feel as if he were moving, but the coffin dropped away from his feet, so he had to of been. He climbed for what felt like forever, the soil was luckily freshly dug up, the Earth around him wasn't hardened yet by time, or by cold. It made it easier to move through. His muscles felt like he were swimming in the Olympics, but he kept on going. Wishes for sunlight and fresh morning air, filled his mind like coins dropped into a well. The more exhausted he felt, the more he focused on life, on breaching the soil, of taking a full gasp of breath.

Finally, his hand broke the surface, cool air hit his skin and sent a shiver down his spine. Next, his other hand made it to the surface, relief flooding through Frank's body, as he pulled himself up, up, up, until finally his head reached through the dirt. He greedily choked on the fresh air, the burning sensation in his lungs slowly easing as he took in several deep breaths. 

The world around him was brutally bright, it stung his eyes, making them water. He squinted, peering around him the same way a deer would glance to make sure there were no lurking wolves around, before coming out of hiding. Frank noticed the bright yellows of the sunflowers before anything else, the pigment bleeding off of reality, until all Frank could really make sense of, were hues of yellow.

Canary. Daffodil. Dandelion. Butterscotch. Honey. All of them blended together, until they made Frank's head hurt with a sharp sense of madness. The hunger in his stomach from earlier was spreading, slowly creeping through his body, making the world around him seem all too sweet for his liking. A need for destruction dripped from his lips, it made him rise up from the grave, pulling himself up by clutching onto the wooden cross that marked his "resting place", until it snapped in two. Frank had managed to finally get his legs up, as he stood, his barefeet stepped on the picture of the virgin mary that had been taped to the cross. Her eyes downcast, full of storms, that were gathering on the horizon.

.

The convenience store's sign hummed in neon, the blue light flickering boredly in the golden evening. The sun was setting, the sky clearing off, devoid of earlier storms, lighting up the puddles so that they reflected the mosaic of the sky above them. Frank's foot stepped in one of the puddles, disturbing the art gallery that it had captured. People were staring at him through their car windows, their eyes bugging out of their skull when he crossed their paths, as if he were a monster straight out of a horror film. Mothers clutched their children tightly as he walked past, and men gawked at him, Frank could imagine them readying their torches and pitchforks. The idea made him snort to himself.

When Frank approached the glass doors to the store, he caught his reflection. His hair was covered with dirt, sticking up in every direction possible. His cheeks caked with filth, along with every inch of his clothes. But the most unsettling part, was the fact that he looked almost... non-human. His eyes were dulled, dark circles making his face looked sunken, hollow, almost as if were deathly ill. His skin was a bruised color, and then too pale in other places. 

He looked like a fucking corpse.

Frank must've been admiring himself for too long, because the cashier had walked up to the door, and was glaring at him from the other side. The guy opened the door, a scowl marking his features, "You can't just loiter by the door, dude. You're gonna scare everyone off if you keep that shit up, and if I don't get people to buy gross gas station hot dogs, then I am not going to be able to pay my rent this week." Frank was staring at the guy, he had a wispy almost-mustache that clung faintly to his upper lip, and hair that hadn't been washed in what looked like several weeks. All in all, the guy looked liked he had just broken out of high school, pity panged through Frank's chest. His name tag read "Jonathan", in half-hearted handwriting.

Jonathan frowned at him, as if just now noticing the state that Frank was in, "Is that... makeup? Are you in a play or something?" He asked, concern ringing throughout his tone.

Frank realized that he had to reply now, like a normal fucking human being, that didn't just escape from their own grave, "Uh..." He started, his voice too raspy for his own liking, so Frank cleared his throat, "Uh, yeah... totally... I am in..." Frank paused, desperately searching for a name of a play, before falling on -

"Frankenstein. I am in Frankenstein." 

Jonathan blinked back at him, before chuckling, "Sheesh, you're really committed to your role, then." He stood back, allowing Frank to come in, "Don't scare any old ladies, Frankenstein. It's bad for business."

Frank would've laughed, but his eyes were trained on Jonathan's back, imaging the tendons and capalaries that lay beneath his smooth, caramel skin, Frank's mouth pooling with saliva, and something darker.

Something, that resembled blood lust.

.

Frank was shaking so much that he had to step into one of the bathrooms. He wasn't sure what was happening to his body, other than he had an uncontrollable sense to hurt the people around him. It was instinctual, burning through his body like how moths eat holes through clothes. Frank stumbled over the cold sink, leaning over it with his head falling down, his mouth hanging open as he tried to breathe properly. Everything felt so real, as if someone had taken the lense of reality and focused in on it too much.

Drool dripped from his mouth, it was colored red from left over blood. It slid down the white porcelain of the sink, into the drain. Frank looked up at himself, upon seeing his reflection, a sudden impulse of deep hatred thrashed throughout his body. Without thinking, he punched the mirror, shattering his reflection into hundreds of different versions of himself, that were all looking back at him in the fragments of the shattered glass, that were now resting all over the floor and in the sink, with horrified expressions written all over their faces.

Frank fumbled towards the door, backing out of the bathroom, and straight into a man that was waiting in line, in the hallway. The man grunted, "Watch where you're going, young man." 

Frank looked back at him, wide eyed, "I am... I am sorry." He stumbled away, the guy still watching him. When Frank turned around, he heard the man mutter something under his breath about "drugs" and how "all the kids are doin' acid these days."

A rumble echoed from Frank's stomach, and he decided that he needed some sort of food. He scanned the shelves, and shoved several bags of doritos and pretzels into his arms, absentmindedly. He made his way up to the counter, passing a teenage girl on his way up the aisle, she looked at him with an aghast look on her face. Her mouth hanging open. Frank grumbled, "Be careful not to catch any flies, sweetheart." On his way past her.

He got up to the counter, and Jonathan was no longer there. In his place, was a scrawny white boy. He looked no older than 18, and he had an earbud hanging from one of his ears, the unmistakable sound of The Misfits coming from the one that was dangling on his chest. He boredly chewed on a piece of gum that had lost its flavor long ago. He blew a bubble and popped it, the noise rang in Frank's ear like a bomb, setting his nerves on fire. The kid rang up each bag of chips, slowly, as if deliberately testing Frank's patience.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

The bubble gum smacked and bursted, each time, sending sparks of madness flickering through Frank's vision. Murderous red roses were blooming on his cheeks, a dangerous hue crawling across his dead skin. The kid popped the gum again, and Frank grinded his teeth, "Would you stop that?" He hissed, trying to keep his voice even.

The kid looked up at him, confused, and then offended, "I am sorry, I am afraid I didn't catch that, sir." He said, his tone almost mocking.

Pop.

Frank flinched, his expression darkened as he looked up at the boy, "If you pop that gum one more time, I'll cut your tongue out." He snarled, although he wasn't sure what part of him this was. It felt alien, like a whole other side of him that was taking the rest of him hostage. The kid seemed to find Frank amusing, which enraged him even more. 

"Your total is $5.67, sugar." He smirked, and then slowly, fatally, popped his bubblegum again.

Frank couldn't do anything to hold himself back, as he leapt over the counter, and tackled the boy to the ground. His body suddenly a weapon of destruction, a switch blade, a grenade flung through a window.

Frank, was a killing machine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not important to the story, I just think u should all know that I danced with a gorl tonight, and my chest feels so light and happy. 
> 
> So... Obviously... I wrote a chapter about being buried alive, and monsters. Obviously.


	23. Car Crash

It was Mikey who realized that the grave was empty, later that night. He had gone to clear his head, after the events of the day, breathing in the brisk sea air, salt water stinging the inside of his lungs, taking in the scene around him. It was dark now, the sun finally setting, warm light spilled from the light house like honey from a jar. The smell of coffee and paint drifting from the open windows and mixing with the dark scent of rain and ocean. Everyone had been quiet, only murmuring ever so often about "needing to head home", but none of them dared to leave the small space of the living room. 

Gerard had been silent, his eyes distant and full of exhaustion. The sharp dagger of his soul had been removed though, like a blade that had been dulled, Gerard wasn't angry anymore, but still, Mikey could sense his aching, a cool and persistent hurt, that seemed to take up all of the space around his brother. 

Mikey sighed, suddenly sad all over again. It came in waves. Bouncing between feeling almost-normal, and then dipping back down into ocean-blue sadness. It was exhausting. He looked over towards the sunflower field from where he stood on the steps to the lighthouse. He saw something that made his heart beat pick up, the dark shadow of the grave seemed to look as if... it had been disturbed. The cross, laying on its side like a wounded animal, the shadows around it giving it life, making it seem as if the entire grave were breathing itself back to life.

"It's just the dark playing tricks on my eyes." Mikey tried to reassure himself, blinking several times, but the image never changed. He kept staring at that eerie place, he didn't realize that he was moving until he pushed a sunflower away, as he made his way into the field. It felt as if there was an unspoken spell, pulling him closer and closer and closer-

he approached what had been Frank's grave, staring in horror at the upturned dirt, the snapped cross, and the hole in the ground that looked as if someone had grown straight up out of it. Mikey swallowed the terror that was building in his throat, trying hard not to scream. It felt as if everything had eyes, the sunflowers, the grave, the moon, all were watching him and laughing, drunkenly, at his fear. 

He couldn't move from the spot, as if roots had grown up from the ground and were slowly pulling him down, as retribution for what it had lost just hours ago. A sharp caw shook Mikey from his sunken thoughts, his neck snapping around to see a crow peering at him. It didn't move, only looked back at Mikey, a feeling of pity was coming from its eyes. "This is bad. This is really bad." Mikey started, his words rushed, to the crow, running a hand through his hair, trying to keep his cool. The crow didn't reply. 

A voice that came from everywhere all at once, spoke, "This is the beginning of the end, my sweet friend." And then, a gust of wind that came from nowhere in particular, nearly snatched Mikey away, it pushed against him, making him stagger to keep his balance. The words bounced around in Mikey's skull, as he ran back to the lighthouse, sprinting like a rabbit being chased by a dog.

He threw open the door, startling everyone in the room, they all looked up at him with worried expressions. Gerard sat straight up from where he was laying on floor, sensing the distress rolling off of Mikey in waves, concerned, he asked, "Mikey, what is it?"

Mikey was pale as a ghost, his mouth dry and his hands shaky, as he replied, "He's gone." They all blinked back at him in misunderstanding, it took a few moments, Mikey repeated himself, before realization and horror dawned on all of their faces.

"But, that can't be... that's not possible..." Ray bumbled in disbelief. Bob had gone stark white, and looked unbelievably scared for such a huge guy.

Gerard, was looking out the window, while Ray continued to list how it was impossible, there was no way in hell or Earth, that Frank could've been... reanimated.

Gerard's breath caught in his throat, and they all stopped talking, as they looked up at him. Gerard glanced at them all, eyes wide, a mystified smirk on his face, before he bolted for the door, out into the humid night, to get a look at the empty grave for himself.

And of course, the rest all followed him.

.

They all stood around the grave in awed horror. Except, Gerard, who was studying the wood of the broken cross, the picture of the virgin mary sat a few steps away, the paper crumpled. "This is extraordinary!" Gerard breathed, sucking air in through his teeth. 

Mikey glared at his brother, "Can't you at least try to act a little bit bothered by the fact that we have turned Frank into a fucking zombie?!" Mikey's fingers twitched around the familiar shape of his camera that he was carrying, although he didn't dare take any pictures. The ground felt cursed. If he took a photo, he was afraid that he would catch a ghost, or something worse.

Gerard was scowling at him, now, "I can't believe you guys don't find this ground-fucking-breaking! We brought a person back from the dead!" He exclaimed.

Ray was massaging his temples, "This isn't science, this is witchcraft." He grumbled. Ray was frowning at the grave, and then turned to look towards the road, where street lamps were making everything look a bit liminal and ghostly. "Where do you think he is now?"

Gerard finally seemed troubled, as the question hung in the air around them. The words heavy, as if they were pressing down on all of their shoulders. Frank was nowhere to be seen, it was as if he had vanished into thin-air. "I would have thought that he would have returned to the lighthouse... after he..." Gerard began, drifting off, not wanting to put a name to what Frank was, now. Whatever it being, it wasn't human, and that simple fact didn't sit well in any of their chests.

"Before Frank went Night Of The Living Dead?" Bob provided. 

"Not helping." Gerard rolled his eyes, Bob shrugged, unbothered. They were all quiet for a moment, Gerard cleared his throat, "Lets drive around town and see what we can find."

Ray snorted, "Pff, sure, lets all search for signs of mass destruction, and just follow that and see where that leads us."

Gerard didn't pick up on Ray's sarcasm, as he replied, "That's exactly what I was thinking!"

Ray let out a very, very, heavy sigh. It was going to be a long night.

.

Frank had broken the kid's jaw. It hadn't even taken that much effort, it only required one strong right hook and he was wailing in pain. The rest of the customers all ran out, all of them abandoning the place after Frank had leapt over the counter in the first place. The kid was screaming, "You're fucking insane! Don't fucking touch me! I'll call the fucking cops on your ass!" As he clawed at Frank's T-shirt. After Frank had punched him, though, he had resorted to groaning in shocked pain.

Frank leaned down, the gum was hanging out the side of the boy's mouth. Frank plucked it out, with his fingers and stuck in his own mouth, blowing a bubble and popping it for emphasis. Frank was still on top of the guy, and his eyes had gone wide, as he watched Frank. He was vaguely drooling out words, unable to speak due to his possibly shattered bones, Frank climbed off of him, dusting his jeans off. He placed the money for the chips on the table, and grumbled, "Keep the fucking change." As he grabbed a grocery bag and threw the items inside, he spotted the rack of cigarettes and decided to steal a pack. He lit one, and flicked the ash onto the floor, as he made his way out of the store.

The scene outside was utter chaos, people were standing about, with looks of concern and curiosity all over their faces, and there was the sound of a not-too-far-away police siren that was screeching through the air, a knot of agitation twisted in Frank's chest, despite the name "convenience store", this had not been a convenient visit.

.

They drove slowly, the streets of their town empty except for the occasional stray cat that was there one minute and then apart of the shadows, the next. They scanned each street, meticulously searching each corner and empty boulevard. Still, there was no sign of Frank. They checked the park, and the cemetery, they even went back to the hospital, and yet, there was no trace of their friend. Ray groaned, "This is hopeless, he could be in the next town over for all we know!" 

Gerard kept his eyes on the road, not listening to Ray. He just wanted to see Frank again, he saw faces in the streetlights, phantoms of his desperations were wandering the streets like hopeless beggars, none of them led him to Frank though. "We haven't checked the police station, yet." Gerard stated.

"Do you think he's... you know," Mikey started from the backseat, pausing for a moment as if searching for the right word, "changed?" 

Gerard looked at his brother in the rearview mirror, "What do you mean by changed?" He asked, slowly.

"I mean, death could change anyone, if you ask me. I imagine it's quite an ordeal to go through! No wonder zombies eat so many brains, they've been through a lot!" Mikey teased. Gerard didn't reply, he only let out a tired breath. Bob snickered from the seat next to Mikey's.

"You're an asshole." Ray responded, but couldn't hide the smirk from his face.

Mikey was quiet for a few moments, before adding, suddenly serious, "He might not be the Frank that we knew, though." As soon as Mikey said it, they all knew it could be true, they didn't know what they had brought back, this could be more than what they had originally bargained for.

What was the price for cheating death? Gerard swallowed thickly, the night suddenly darker than it had been before, as he got the creeping feeling, that it was something more expensive than he could afford.

Just then, police cars went careening past them, their lights throwing red and blue shadows against the houses, their sirens louder than bombs. They all slowed to the curb, watching as the cars all passed, there were at least 5. "Well, that's suspicious." Ray started.

Gerard's heartbeat picked up, a feeling in his gut told him to follow after the cars. He swung the car around, making everyone in the car hold onto the handlebars above them, "Where are we going?!" Ray squeaked.

"They'll lead us to Frank." Gerard proclaimed, and then sped off after them.

.

After a highspeed chase, the cop cars led them to a convenience store at the edge of town. A flickering sign said that they offered free wi-fi, and lottery tickets. There were about 7 different police cars parked around, including an ambulance that was loading a teenager onto a stretcher. His face was swollen and bruised, as if he had picked a fight with a pro-wrestler. Gerard had a funny feeling that told him that whatever had happened to the kid, Frank had something to do with it.

"Fuck, Frank better not of been here." Ray cursed, as he watched police try to push the crowd of people away. 

"With our luck, we'll find him in a cell by tomorrow morning." Bob grumbled from the back, Gerard tried to ignore the way his insides curled up at the thought of Frank in jail. He pulled the car over beside an older couple who had been observing the crime scene. The old man had a permanent scowl on his face, that pulled all his features downward like an upside-down clown painting. The woman, didn't look much happier than her husband. "Ma'am, sir, hold on!" Gerard called out his window. They stopped, frowning at Gerard as if he were a teenage nuissance. "Do you know what happened here?" He asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible, he gave them his most charming smile. Mikey gagged from the backseat.

"Some young criminal attacked the cashier." Replied the man, an angry huff to his voice, "He beat the life out of that poor man! Broke his jaw like a walnut!"

The group in the car all exchanged worried-knowing glances with one another. Gerard turned back to the older couple, "Do they know who did it?" He asked, politely.

The older woman glowered, "It was some teenager, you could tell that he was trouble! The boy was covered in more tattoos than any devil-rock star, that I've ever seen!"

Gerard's heart dropped, he thanked the couple, and rolled down the window. He leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling of the car, taking a few deep breaths, before shouting in frustration, and hitting the steering wheel. The rest of the guys watching him, letting him get his agitation out, when he was done, Ray reached out and put a comforting hand on Gerard's shoulder, "Look, at least we know he was here." He pointed out, reassuringly. Gerard nodded slowly, in response.

Gerard started the car and began to drive again, the wheels screeching against the pavement, as he pressed the gas. Everything in his body just wanted to escape, to fade out into the open road until there was nothing left of him. Guilt was weighing down his bones, he had created something that had hurt someone, and now there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Hell! He couldn't even find Frank!

"This is all so fucking hopeless." Gerard mumbled, Ray was about to protest, when suddenly Mikey let out a shocked screech from the backseat.

"Brake! Brake! Holy shit!" Mikey yelled. Gerard had been so lost in thought, he hadn't even noticed the person crossing the road. He slammed on the brakes, the car skidded to a halt, but it was too late, it hit the unlucky pedestrian head-on, sending the man flying over their hood, his head hit the windshield so hard that it cracked the glass. Gerard felt as if he were going to have a heart attack, horror making him want to vomit. 

"Fuck. Is he dead? Fuck. Fuck!" Gerard exclaimed, once they came to a stop. They looked at the man on their car, no human could've been able to survive such a hit, and Gerard felt his soul sink through the ground, as he realized this. He couldn't live with the weight of having killed someone on his hands.

They studied him, messy dark hair covered the man's face, his neck was bent at a sickening angle, and he was still holding onto a grocery bag, that said "Have a nice day!" on it, in red lettering. His clothes were ragged, and looked as if he had been rolling around in a mud puddle for fun. He looked excruciatingly familiar, and Gerard felt his heart leap into his throat as he noticed the tell-tale scorpion tattoo peaking out from under the man's collar. Ray gasped just as Gerard was frantically unbuckling his seatbelt, "Is that?" Ray whispered, disbelief hanging in every syllable, stopping him from finishing his sentence.

"It's Frank." Gerard confirmed, and then swung his door open to get out, and pull his boyfriend's corpse from off the roof of the car.


	24. Lonelism

When Frank woke up, his whole body sang in pain. For a moment, he craved nothing more than to fall back into a deep sleep, to escape the ache that was rushing through his muscles, right down to his bones. He didn't open his eyes, not ready to face the world full on, yet. He heard shuffling and muffled voices speaking quietly to each other, but then, there was something else. Something delicate, like the sound of harps playing, blushing and gold, blooming in his mind like sugary sunlight.

Someone, was running their fingers through his hair. Soft, and gentle, like a lullaby that they were forming with their fingertips. Frank could feel the weight of them, sinking the mattress beside him, and for a moment, the weight in his chest wasn't so crushing. He leaned into the touch, like a lost dog looking for warmth during a blizzard.

The person stopped, suddenly, Frank heard their breath hitch. Their hand lingered, for a moment, before pushing Frank's hair back, and whispering, "He's awake." 

The other people in the room got deathly silent, not even daring to breathe. Frank, to his own confusion, suddenly felt a bit self conscious, he could feel everyone's attention on him, like a starving pack of wolves. For a moment, he wanted to pretend that he really was still asleep, but, reluctantly, he blearily blinked his eyes open.

The room was fuzzy and undeveloped like a polaroid picture, for several seconds, all Frank could make out were silouhettes. The man in front of him was familiar, Frank could feel the anxiety and fear radiating off of him, Frank blinked, and finally could clearly make out the face before him.

It was Gerard. Of course, it was. He was different though, for a moment, Frank didn't even dare to breathe as he took him in, almost scared that any sudden movements would shatter the apparition before him like glass, and Frank would be plunged back into loneliness. But Gerard stayed, held in front of him like a flash of light, caught mid-sentence, blinding and ethereal. 

He had changed his hair, Frank sat up now, moving closer, cupping Gerard's face in his hands, as if to make sure that he was really real. His eyes looked so tired, so much more sad than Frank remembered, Gerard's lips parted almost as if in awe of Frank, as Frank ran his hands through his short blonde hair. He didn't know what to say, a vague fear was pulsing through his brain, Gerard looked like an image that had been flipped, everything about him felt slightly off, "You've changed." Was all Frank whispered, quietly enough so that only Gerard could hear.

Gerard stopped Frank's hands, catching his wrist, and holding him still, Frank noted the way his hands shook as he held him, meeting his eyes. Gerard looked like Frank had been shot, and strangely, there was something more tragic written across his features, Frank's gut twisted when he realized that it resembled guilt. Almost as if Gerard had been the one to shoot off the gun in the first place.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Gerard's voice shook, strangely, like he was walking a tightrope. For the first time, Gerard made Frank feel almost... unsteady. 

Frank got the peculiar feeling of remembering something that felt more like it was better off forgotten, and his heart sank, he pressed his forehead against Gerard's, letting his eyes close for a moment, like he was placing a quiet wish there, in the space between them, "I'll always find my way back to you," Frank whispered, gently, "You're my way home."

Gerard pulled away, looking like he had just fallen from grace. He shook his head quickly, swallowing thickly as he tentatively asked, "Frank... what do you remember?" 

Frank's mind flashed to the moments that had led up to him blacking out before he had ended up here, he looked over at the rest of the group, just now noticing them hovering along the sides of the room. Ray looked sleep deprived, Mikey was white as a sheet, and Bob was nervously glancing down at his feet. All of them wouldn't meet his eyes. Frank frowned, remembering the glow of headlights, but there was more -

being thrown over the hood of a car, a sharp pain shooting through his head, until he was sure he could hear angels singing, and then - black. 

Frank looked up at Gerard, a funny smirk on Frank's face, that was anything but pleasant, he was freaking out a little. He wasn't sure how he was alive... "Did you hit me with your car?" He asked, slowly.

Gerard nodded, warily. "I am sorry about that by the way. " Gerard added. Then, "Do you remember anything before that?"

Frank did. He gulped. He thought back to the store, to breaking the kid's jaw, to escaping his coffin like he was houdini, all the way back to when he was standing, hovering on the edge of the cliff until he finally just stepped off.

Frank didn't know what was happening to him, fear was piling in his stomach, flooding his system until his breath felt like metal. Memories were flashing through his head like a manic picture show that was hell bent on unraveling his mind, he had no way of slowing it down. His limbs didn't feel attached to him, everything in his body was desperately trying to escape outwards, like a cosmic explosion, like a star just before it dies. All of his atoms bursting like red giants, Frank's breaths came in rapid gulps, the room around him didn't feel real, as he tried to tie logic around his own thoughts, but it was no use.

One thing was very clear to him though, admist the chaos of his brain, "I shouldn't be here." Was all he could get out, looking at Gerard with wide eyes. The rest of the group were reaching towards him, a feeling that Frank did not want to recognize was shooting through his veins, sharp and horrifyingly vibrant, as it demanded to be felt. Like a knife to the stomach. Thoughts of him falling, dying, the unforgiving, concrete smack of the water hitting his body, splintering his insides as if they were made from simple splinters, and not bone. 

He remembered the darkness, ebbing around him like a heavy ink splotch that spreads to other colors on a page. Consuming everything, until all that is left is a dark grey. Frank was backing away from Gerard and the rest of his friends as they tried to comfort him, he pointed at Gerard, "What the fuck happened to me?!" Frank screamed, backing up until his back hit the headboard behind him. 

Gerard's face had gone completely pale, his lips forming a thin line, when he opened his mouth to speak, his words were so quiet, that any shift of the air around them could've carried them to the next coast over, "When you jumped, I felt like I had been flung into deep space. I felt like God was playing some kind of practical joke on me..." Gerard started, and then let out a bark of a laugh, "Everything felt so wrong, I thought that if I could just... remedy the whole situation, everything would be okay, again." He started. Frank stared at him, not understanding. "I wanted to play my own hand against the divine."

A murderous red washed over Frank, as he levelled Gerard with a poisonous glare. Gerard seemed unperturbed.

"I thought I could fix you-" Gerard looked up at him, his eyes hollow, his soul didn't seem attached, as if it had slipped into another world by stepping into Gerard's own shadow like a disappearing act, as if it were trying to hide from the truth.

"Gerard. Don't." Mikey started, his voice cracking, "Don't, don't say it. Please." He said, Frank snapped his eyes up to him. Mikey had tears in his eyes, and the familiar feeling from the convenience store started to fill Frank's veins, like liquid from an I.V. Mikey had a desperate look on his face, "Frank, he wasn't in his right mind-"

"No, I wasn't!" Gerard cut him off, frustration and sorrow dripping from his words, "I felt like I was going insane, everyday felt like existing in a world that was broken." Gerard paused, his eyes falling to a place on the floor, "I just wanted everything to stop fucking hurting."

Frank's pulse was hammering in his chest, a vague idea of what had happened to him started to form in his mind, something unnatural, horrific and so selfish that it nearly blinded Frank. "What the fuck did you do to me?" He demanded.

"Frank, I am so sorry. I am so sorry, I shouldn't have done this, I am sorry." Gerard said, hurriedly, standing up from where he had been sitting, running his hands through his hair, anxiously. His face crumpled, making him look absolutely broken. It should've made Frank feel sympathy for the poor bastard, but all Frank could make sense of was the razorblade edge of rage that was driving itself through his calcified heart.

Frank was lunging towards Gerard before he realized it, a feral yell ripping from his throat, as he slammed Gerard up against the wall, Gerard didn't even have time to react, Frank was gripping his collar, practically lifting him off the ground, Gerard let out a choked sound like a hunted animal, "Look what you did to me, you fucking bastard." He snarled, Gerard wasn't even making words, as he gaped back at Frank, terrified.

"I didn't mean for it to end up this way-" He started.

"You've turned me into a fucking monster!" Frank cried out, his voice cracking at the end, Gerard's eyes widened and Frank could see all of the apologies written clear and genuine, but none of it was enough, nothing could fix what had been done. Frank hated the hot tears that were spilling from his eyes, they felt like a sign of weakness, he registered Ray's arms pulling him off of Gerard, wrapping themselves around Frank, like a parachute. 

Ray's breath was warm against Frank's ear, as he whispered, "Frank, it's okay. Everything is going to be okay, we'll figure this out." But it wasn't okay, Frank was staring at Gerard, his heart feeling like it had been ripped straight from his chest, his sense of gravity didn't even feel right.

For a moment, Frank understood perfect loneliness, because no one in that room, or on Earth could comprehend the world-shattering pain that was tearing his soul apart, as if he were standing on the edge of a black hole's event horizon. This is what the last star in the whole universe would experience, once heaven rolled away, and the rest of the lights all went out. No trace of god, or forgiveness, just a hollow feeling that could never be filled.

"You should've let me die." Frank hissed, between sobs, "You should've let me fucking die, Gerard." Gerard sunk to the floor, the words hitting him like an arrow to the chest.

"Don't say that." He pleaded, his throat column tightened, as he tried to swallow down all the pain that was trying to climb its way up his throat, "You can't mean that..."

"It would be more merciful than this." Frank finally said, the words rang throughout the room like church bells, the way they ring to declare that a person has died, to let the local town's people know to wear their best mourner's clothes.

The room had gone silent, and Frank went limp in Ray's arms, for a little bit, all of the fight had simply been drained out of him, leaving him hollowed out like the sky on a summer's afternoon, where the sun is so bright, that it burns the blue right out of the heavens, until it leaves the taste of gasoline and emptiness, fresh on your tongue, like a brand new scar.


	25. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some pretty triggering content. If you're sensitive to self harm, or struggling with something, then maybe you should return to this later. 
> 
> Remember that you're loved, infinitely, and that all things pass. You're a precious light in this universe, and it's okay to not be alright. You're not alone, and you have people who would give you the stars, if you just asked. You're wonderful, and never a burden.
> 
> Resources for if you're struggling with a crisis, or just need someone to talk to ---->
> 
> https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org
> 
> You can call!!! 1-800-273-8255
> 
> They also have a chat!!! I have used their chat before, very easy and a lot less stressful, especially if u get horrible anxiety about talking to people like I do, oof
> 
> Anyways, I love you. Take care of yourself. You're important.
> 
> Oh, and enjoy the story!!!

The bullet entered one side of his head, the tissue splitting, blood vessels bursting, capillaries blooming and exploding the same way galaxies begin and die, here one moment and gone the next, the bullet, a ripple in the universe. Frank could feel the pain rip through his body like a shockwave, it was so blinding, that for a moment, Frank held his breath. Maybe he had really died this time.

He waited to see gates of white, for a gold chariot to claim him, or for nothing at all. He stayed this way, splayed out on the forest floor, the pine needles digging into his skin, and the grass kissing the bullet hole in his head, as he stared up at the pale sky above him, the clouds reflected in his eyes as if they were made of marble. Frank could hear the slow, mournful cry of a wolf, and the mischievous noise of owl hoots, the sounds made his hair stand on end. Nothing changed. The only thing that dared move was the wind swaying the branches of the trees like a lover. It was clear to Frank, in that moment, that he truly was unkillable.

He sat up, and put a hand to the fresh bullet hole in his head, "That's gonna leave a scar." He murmured to himself, and then let out a bitter laugh. The wound was still smoking, filling the air around him with the smell of gun smoke and metallic blood. Soon, the crows would arrive to study the tragic scene, the same way the Greeks used to watch gladiators fight, eyes greedy and delightful with the occupation of death. Frank stood up, he didn't even sway, despite his fatal bloodloss, and threw his jacket on.

Frank hadn't spoken to Gerard or the rest of the group in days, besides Ray. Ray had caught him one night, when Frank was coming back in from his midnight runs of self-destruction. He had been sitting on the kitchen floor, playing guitar in the pale moonlight, he was so quiet, except for the gentle twang that the strings gave off when he strummed them, that Frank almost thought he was a ghost. Frank had tried to sneak past him, as he made his way towards the staircase, but Ray had spoken up, "It's 5 a.m." he had said, bluntly. He sounded like he was speaking to the inky shadows around him, or to God.

Frank's insides had twisted up, he hadn't been looking for a conversation, "I don't need you to keep track of me. I can take care of myself." Frank snapped back, he recoiled at the venom he heard in his own voice. He hadn't meant to sound so angry, but lately, it just spilled out before he could stop it.

Ray didn't even flinch, as he continued to strum on the guitar, his eyes were closed, fluttering ever so often as the notes lilted and floated through the air, like magic. "I never said you couldn't take care of yourself, I am just your friend..." Ray stopped playing, and threw a look over his shoulder, meeting Frank's eyes, "And I am worried about you, Frankie." Frank didn't respond, "...you should talk to Gerard."

Frank stood there, at the bottom of the staircase, his hand tightening around the railing until his knuckles turned white. His ears burned just by hearing his name, "I don't want to speak to that asshole ever again." He spat, but even as the words left Frank's mouth, he knew that they weren't true.

Ray put his guitar down, and got up, he made his way towards Frank, slowly, looking more like a shadow than a man. He frowned at Frank for a moment, and pointed to the blood that was running down his chin, as well as smeared across his cheeks and T-shirt. "You look like hell."

"I am hell." Frank snarled back.

"Listen, I am not saying that what Gerard did isn't wrong, because it is. It's fucked up. I am not even saying that you should forgive him." Ray said, scowling as he spoke, almost as if he were as repulsed by the events of the past few weeks, as Frank was. 

"He turned me into a monster." Frank cut him off.

Ray shook his head, "Frank, you'll never be a monster. No matter how many teeth, no matter how many scars, you'll still be Frank. Not even death can change a man's soul," Ray said, quietly. His expression was so soft, it made Frank want to cry.

"I won't talk to him." Frank finally responded.

"Then, we'll lose him forever." Ray sighed, his shoulders falling, defeated.

"Tell him that I hope he rots, then." Frank growled, and then marched his way up the staircase. Leaving his soul with Ray, like a discarded coat, during a rainstorm.

.

Frank had a slow and practiced science going. It started one night when he had gone to the bathroom, after laying awake in bed for hours. He couldn't sleep anymore, nighttime felt more like a curse than a dream. The moon was laughing at him, Frank was sure. There was a hollow place that was growing in his chest, that was so demanding that it made Frank's knees buckle. At first, he thought he was going insane, the hunger whispered to him all of the time, but he couldn't hide from it at night.

It whispered for blood, for violence and everything in between. 

He had gotten up, the only trace of him that the stars could find was the inprint of his body in the mattress, and the bathroom light that spilled out into the bedroom from the cracks in the door. Frank was staring at himself in the mirror, and the hunger in his stomach grew, it pulsed through his veins like an extra heartbeat, like an alien that had taken him hostage.

"Shut up." Frank told his reflection, his reflection was trembling, wide eyed and horrified as he tried to comprehend what it was that he was feeling. Frank carefully lifted his shirt, inspecting the miles and miles of skin that laid beneath it. His body had bruises running up and down his spine, purpled and boney, it made Frank sick to his stomach. His skin had taken on an unnatural hue, that reminded him of drowned things, and cemeteries in the evening. Each one of his ribs, a headstone.

Frank was fumbling through the cabinet behind the mirror, before he even knew what it was that he was searching for. His eyes landed on pill bottles, Xanax, lithium, and scattered anti-depressants and cough drops, all littered the shelves, along with tubes of toothpaste, brushes and -

an Xacto knife. The metal gleamed in the yellow light of the bathroom, like a bad idea with a halo wrapped around its neck. Frank picked up the knife, his hands shook a bit, as he tried to process what it was that his impulses were telling him to do.

Frank didn't want to die, but he needed something. Ever since he had come back, he couldn't feel a damned thing, besides an unrelenting hunger that ate away at his sanity. Frank pressed the cold metal to his skin, his veins were dark beneath the blade, Frank could taste the blood on his tongue. He sucked a breath in, and pressed down, the knife bit into his soft skin like a poisonous kiss. The pain stole Frank's breath away for a second, he bit his lip to keep himself from crying out and alerting everyone else in the lighthouse that he was in trouble. Blood welled up immediately, spilling down his arm like a flood.

Frank was on the floor, a second later, it should've felt good, the relief of the violent act did nothing to satisfy the hunger in his chest though, it was brewing like a storm in mid-June, waiting for the right moment to drown out everything and everyone.

.

Frank was making his way back from the woods, the gun in his pocket was heavy, swinging as he walked. He wasn't sure where he was going to, it was early morning and the world was still waiting for the day to call it out of bed. A few school buses ran up and down the street, Frank hadn't ever been to this side of town before, but there were train tracks that ran along the forest's edge, he hadn't ever noticed it before, maybe because it never seemed like it was a thing that was useful to him, it was mundane.

The tracks sparked and sizzled with electricity, the metal popped and groaned when the trains passed, the trains, big giants that lumbered sleepily along country-sides, Frank had been watching them for the past few days. An idea popped into his head.

He didn't know much, but he was sure that he'd be back here by nightfall.

.

Gerard hadn't slept in what felt like days. Everytime he closed his eyes, he'd see Frank. He knew that he should just leave Frank alone, but it felt like there was something always pulling Gerard back towards him, and so, that night, he had slipped from his bed and gone across the hall, to where Frank's bedroom door was left open, slightly. Silver light spilled through the crack, cutting a line of moonlight into the wood floor. Gerard opened the door with a creak, and let his eyes adjust to the darkness inside. 

He blinked, and could make out the outline of the bed, but to his surprise, he found it unoccupied. Wherever Frank was, it wasn't here. Panic fluttered in Gerard's chest, his memory immediately going back to the last time that he had found Frank missing. He stepped into the room, looking around at the items that were scattered everywhere. Loose change, cigarettes, and clothes were all tossed around like asteroids that were no longer caught in orbit. Gerard felt his heart sink, he was sitting down on the bed before he realized. Running his hands through his hair, to keep from touching the pillows, or grabbing the sheets and hugging them tightly.

He fell back onto the bed, the mattress felt uneven beneath his back, and he tried not to think about how lonely it felt. Gerard tried to count all of the popcorn on the ceiling, wondering how Frank could ever sleep in a room that was so quiet. However, as he thought this, he felt the gentle pull of drowsiness tug on his eyelids, like an unwelcomed visitor. He reluctantly let it in.

Gerard had a vision that night. It came in the form of rolling thunderclouds and thick fog, he could hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears, everything in his body was screaming with adrenaline like a train whistle. He looked around, eyes wide and uncomprehending, the world around him was thickly lined with trees, crows sat in each and every one, Gerard could hear the drone of police sirens, all of them wailing like a symphony of bad luck. 

He turned his head, and saw a familiar face beside him, he looked so beautiful, it almost made Gerard's heart stop. Frank was standing there, tears streaming down his face, hands up, palms raised like quiet prayers towards the sky. He was screaming, really screaming, as if something terrible had just happened. "It was supposed to be me, goddammit!" He shrieked, and then tilted his head back, his dark hair falling, it was covered in sweat and something that resembled blood. Frank's shoulders shook, and all Gerard could do was watch.

And then there was the sound of a gunshot, that shattered the dream into a million pieces.

.

Frank came home and found Gerard in his bed, and for the first time in a few weeks, he couldn't bring himself to be mad at the sight of him. Frank sat down on the edge of the bed, studying the soft curves and edges of Gerard's face, and the way his breath rose and fell evenly, a reminder that there was still blood pumping through his veins.

That he was alive, and Frank was not.

Frank laid down, suddenly tired, although he never slept anymore. He wanted to reach out and touch Gerard, but for some reason, that felt wrong, everything was so tragic about the situation that it burned Frank, in the same way, that the world burns god.

So, he watched him, the only other company was the walls and the birds that chirped, like bells in heaven, and all Frank could think was that he hadn't ever seen anyone more beautiful.

.

The next night, around 10 p.m., Frank snuck out of the house. He pulled his jacket closer, his hood covering his features until he became apart of the dark night around him. The sky above him felt heavy, like a cloak that the Earth had pulled around herself to keep out the cold. Frank tried to block out everything by listening to music through his earbuds, the street lamps around him all looked a bit like sinners trying to repent, as they wept tears of yellow light onto the pavement, the darkness sitting on their metal shoulders like crows.

When Frank approached the familiar train tracks, it was silent. There was the eerie sound of coyotes laughing, deep in the woods, they chuckled as if drunk on the stars. Frank might've been dead, and he was definitely the creepiest motherfucker in town, but the sounds of the forest still haunted him. It made him feel like he wasn't alone, in the worst way possible.

Frank sat and sat, waiting and waiting for a train to pass by, daydreaming about the pain that would electrify his body, until all he could taste was the color red.

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't hear the set of footsteps that were gaining closer and closer. Not until a voice called out to him, shaking him back down to Earth, making Frank jump in surprise. "Who is it?" He asked, he could make out a figure in the shadows, that was making its way towards him.

It wore a long dark coat, that Frank recognized, that swirled around his legs like bird feathers. The moonlight caught his hair, and Frank could make out the familiar silver pool that sat on his head. It was Gerard.

"It's a bit late for a walk, isn't it?" Gerard drawled, standing only a few feet away, so real and wonderful that it sent sparks shooting through Frank's chest.

"How'd you know I was here?" Frank shot back, although he wouldn't admit it, he was glad that Gerard was there. The hunger in his chest was making it hard to breathe, and he was dancing a fine line of love and hate, every time he met Gerard's gaze.

"I followed you." Gerard replied simply.

Anger flared up, yet again, crawling beneath Frank's skin, "I thought I told you that I never wanted to see you again." He hissed. 

Gerard flinched, and it made Frank's chest sink, "You worry me." Was all Gerard got out, and then, "I never meant for it to be this way, I don't know what I was thinking."

"Because you weren't! You're... You're-" Frank stopped, because the more he spoke, the smaller Gerard seemed to shrink. He could've called Gerard a lot of things right then, but he was too tired. "You should go home." Frank finally finished.

"Not without you." Gerard replied, and he pointed his chin towards the train tracks, "If you're looking for something to kill you, that'll do it. I've had... dreams about this place." 

Frank frowned, "I am already dead, I can't be killed. I've tried." 

Gerard's eyes grew wide, fear flooding them, "What do you mean that you've 'tried'?" 

Frank stepped closer, so that he was right infront of Gerard, and then stuck his wrists out into the space between them, "I mean, I am indestructible." The moonlight shown off the deep cuts that ran vertically up and down Frank's wrist, a cross hatch that should be accompanied by a warm bath and sleeping pills. 

Gerard didn't say anything for a few moments, "Is this what you've been doing every night?" His voice was even.

"I am trying to reverse this curse you've put on me." Frank responded, bitterly. 

"You're trying to get yourself killed!" Gerard snapped.

"Can't kill what's already dead, baby." Frank replied, snarkily. 

"You know what, fuck you. You're an asshole, Frank Iero." Gerard spat out, and then turned to walk away. Rage erupted in Frank's chest, he went after Gerard, putting a hand on his shoulder and yanking him around so that he was face to face with him, again.

"You're the one who brought me back from the dead! You ruined my afterlife!" Frank's voice rose with every word.

"How could you of done it, though, Frank? I fucking cared about you, we all did! You can carry your deathwish with you as much as you want, but you carry more than just your own fucking life." Gerard's words were rushed and full of guilt, grief and anger, "When you took your life, you took the rest of us with you. The five of us all died with you!" Gerard yelled. The last sentence hung in the air, heavy around Frank's neck like a noose, threatening to strangle him, if he didn't speak soon.

"It hurt so bad. It still does." Frank whispered. His hand was still grabbing onto the soft cloth of Gerard's coat, suddenly all of the anger had been drained out of Frank, Gerard seemed to be too close, heat radiated off of his body, and it was the warmest Frank had felt in weeks, he felt himself inch closer.

"We could've survived it. Together." Gerard replied, softly, "What made you think you were ever alone? Why couldn't you stay?"

"It's not that I felt like I was alone..." Frank realized, and he felt his insides twist as he said, "Sometimes it's just never enough."

Gerard looked like a wreck after Frank had said it, but he didn't try to make Frank apologize for it, it was the truth, and it cut worse than any blade. "You think we can pretend like everything is like it was before?" Gerard asked, slowly.

"No, too much of me died when I did. I don't recognize the person that I am anymore, Gerard. It's like I am a stranger." Frank felt his voice grow thick, "Sometimes, I just get so angry, and I can't figure out why-" Frank started, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest that said he was saying too much.

"You still feel like home to me, Frank." Was all Gerard said, and Frank felt himself relax into his arms, Gerard held onto him as if Frank could fly away at any moment, as if the world was breaking and they were the only thing that was going to keep it together. The hunger, at least for a little bit was gone. Replaced with a feeling that Frank hadn't felt in a long time, a cosmic feeling that felt god-sent that promised,

everything was gonna be okay.


	26. Monopoly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I have written nothing but angst for the past uhhhhhhh several chapters, so HOPEFULLY THIS MAKES UP FOR ALL OF THAT MESS. THERE'S MONOPOLY AND RAY TORO, HAVE FUN JFBSHAKA

"I wanna perform at a gig." Frank announced to the living room, where Ray was sitting playing Monopoly with Mikey, and Gerard was reading a Stephen King novel, all of them looked up at Frank in a mystified confusion, as if Frank had just spoken another language all together.

Mikey frowned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "But Frank, everybody in town knows that you're... you know." Mikey made a vague gesture with his hands, that sent of twang of offense through Frank's body.

"Yeah, it was all over the news for a few days. If you played a show, people would freak out." Ray added, he rolled a pair of die, and they rattled against the game board, Ray cursed when he moved his small toy car and it landed on Mikey's empire that he had built all over the left side of the board, that had all of the most expensive properties. "Dammit, I am bankrupt, again!" Ray exclaimed, throwing his fake cash at Mikey, who had a smug grin on his face. "Gerard, I hope you know that your brother is a filthy cheater."

Gerard didn't even look up from his book, as he replied, "You've been friends since 7th grade, and you're just now finding this out?" 

Mikey was "making it rain" with his fake money, letting the paper fall onto Ray's head, as Ray rested his head in his hand, pathetically. "I am not a cheater, I am just lucky." Mikey grinned.

Frank watched the three of them, with an exasperated expression on his face. It had been a week since Gerard had found Frank by the train tracks, and things had been painfully quiet. Although, they were the closest to normal that they had been since Frank had jumped. So, in that sense, Frank didn't mind the slow, dull ache of boredom that was digging beneath his skin, as he spent the days pacing. Trying not to listen to the tick-tock spell of the clock, that was trying its best to drive him insane.

A few days ago, Gerard had surprised him. He had "woken" Frank up, by coming into his room, early one morning with a giddy grin on his face. "It's too early." Frank had groaned.

"You're not even sleeping, asshole." Gerard had laughed, throwing a pillow at Frank. Frank caught it and hid his face, trying to disguise the small smirk that was tugging at the sides of his lips, as Gerard tried to pull him out of bed. "I promise that what I have to show you is worth getting out of bed."

"Hmmm, debatable." Frank mused, but finally allowed himself to be dragged downstairs. Gerard was practically bouncing with excitement, like a kid in an arcade who had just beaten the highscore on Pac-Man. Early morning light spilled in through the windows, lighting up the jet black walls of the lighthouse, reflecting off of dust that was floating through the air, making it look like stardust. Frank had asked Gerard about the newly painted walls, and Gerard had just smiled at Frank sadly, and changed the subject. Frank guessed that it had something to do with his own death. Everything did, nowadays.

Gerard covered Frank's eyes with his hands, and Frank let out an indignant breath, "It's a surprise." Gerard explained.

"Hmm kinky." Frank joked, Gerard kicked him playfully, and Frank kept his mouth shut. Gerard pushed him forward a few feet, and then stopped. His hands left Frank's eyes, although Frank kept them shut. He felt something being pressed into his hands, and Frank knew what it was, immediately. The cool, smooth object felt like an extenstion to his own body, Frank's face broke out into a wide grin.

It was a guitar.

Frank's eyes snapped open, and stared at the white guitar that he was holding. It was sleek, and wonderful in every sense of the word, for a second, he couldn't even form words, he looked up at Gerard with an astonished expression. 

"You look a little lost without a guitar, and I miss listening to you play-" Gerard started, he was looking down at the floor, his cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed. When he looked back up again, Frank had sat the guitar down, and was tackling him into a hug. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Frank said, over and over, until the words spilled over each other. Gerard held him, smiling into Frank's shoulder.

Frank had spent the rest of the day, playing, floating through each song, every note feeling like a miracle, his fingers danced over the frets like wishes that he had forgotten to make, before. Each time a song ended, Gerard smiled at him, and for a little bit, everything was perfect.

The guitar, though, had made Frank remember the band and the record label. A familiar pang of loss was following Frank around like a lost dog, that he couldn't shake off. He missed playing shows, and how it made him feel like he meant something, like he had something to offer the universe other than pain and misery. 

Everyday, the feeling got stronger. He had stayed awake the night before, the stars resembled stage lights, the night-time noises that chirped outside of his window sounded too much like the chorus to a song, the moon, an ocean of teenage grief waiting to be cured by a guitar riff. He made a quiet promise to himself, that no matter what, he would figure out a way to play in the band again, because afterall, it's the only thing that made him feel alive.

That last thought made him think of Gerard, and his soft smirk as he watched Frank play, earlier that day.

Okay, so maybe music wasn't the only thing that made Frank feel alive. Maybe, he had something more, that he couldn't quite comprehend, but made him breathless all the same.

Anyways, all of that late-night contemplating had led Frank to the living room, where Ray had taken to angrily shuffling a stack of Uno cards, as Mikey put away the Monopoly board. "Are you guys even listening?" Frank scowled.

Mikey was staring intently at one of the game pieces, and Gerard smacked him with his book, Mikey let out an offended "Hey!" His hand going to massage the back of his head. Gerard tilted his head towards Frank, and glared at his brother. A telepathic conversation was taking place, yet again, Frank groaned as Mikey and Gerard kept glowering at one another, without speaking a word.

"In English, please!" Frank finally exclaimed.

"Frank, no one has booked us since the incident, they all think we're bad luck." Mikey sighed.

"Brian can surely manage to get us something." Frank pleaded.

"We haven't talked to Brian in weeks, he's been off the grid. He doesn't even know that you're back." Ray responded, and then shook his head, "And we should keep it that way, if Brian finds out, he'll lose his shit."

"Why does Brian give a fuck? I am back! Who cares about the ethical questions that it raises, we've got a band again!" Frank replied, incredulously. He was pacing again, and was trying his best to ignore the feeling of desperation that was building in his chest. He had to play a show, he just had to.

A dark expression crossed Ray's face, and he stared down at the ground, trying to avoid everyone's eyes. "Gerard isn't the first person to try and bring someone back from the dead out of grief." Ray said, quietly, the room grew silent as his words sunk in.

Gerard's face drained of color, realization sparking in his eyes as his hand went to cover his mouth. Mikey was staring at Ray with a wary look on his face, "What do you mean?" 

"Brian... had a brother." Gerard breathed. Ray's mouth settled into a thin line, confirming the dreaded remark. 

"I tried to... bring him back. But it didn't work, all it did was fry what was left of him, the corpse was barely recognizeable after the... experiment." Ray admitted, and then ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath, "He can't find out." Ray finally said, and looked up at Frank, firmly meeting his gaze, "It'll break him."

Which, was the dramatic way of saying that Frank couldn't play a show. 

Frank groaned, "Well, this is shit." The rest of the group all murmured agreements. 

.

Frank had been moping around the lighthouse after finding out about Brian and his dead brother, and that Frank had cursed the only good thing in his life, or afterlife to an eternity of never booking a gig again. All hope felt like it was lost, and then, a light shown through the darkness.

Gerard came home one night, triumph written all over his face, as he smacked a piece of paper down onto the table, "I got us a gig!" He exclaimed. Frank immediately jumped from his place on the couch, and scrambled over to Gerard. He looked down at the neon pink flyer that had "House Of Wolves" printed in bloody lettering at the top. Frank scanned the rest of the page, recognizing names of other bands and concert times, and at the very bottom of the page, there was a familiar name that made Frank's whole chest sing, like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.

My Chemical Romance live @ House Of Wolves, 9 p.m. - 11 p.m., "Be there, fucko."

Frank gasped, and let out a laugh of disbelief. Ray and Mikey both came over, as well, frowns on both of their faces. Gerard was beaming, smugly. Everything felt like it was happening all at once, but above all the noise of excitement that was rattling off in Frank's chest, one question rose above everything else,

"How'd you do it?" Ray was the one to ask, he looked up at Gerard, curiously.

"Ramona works at House Of Wolves, it's a bar at the edge of town. It'll be a small show, but hey, it's something." Gerard shrugged. Frank was grinning from ear to ear, in that moment, all he wanted to do was kiss Gerard, the way he used to, until his lips were numb and singing like starlight.

But, then, an unsettling awareness sat over Frank. He looked down at his own hands, and saw the terrifying state that his body was in, the bruised tips of his fingers, and Frank's non-existent heartbeat, all made it hard to ever imagine himself as anything other than horrifying.

Gerard was still smiling, and Mikey was dancing around, excitedly. Ray looked as if they had just won the lottery.

Frank, should've been thrilled, but for some reason, he felt detached from the entire situation. Gerard looked up and caught Frank's distraught expression, and his face fell, worry masking all the light that had filled his eyes just a moment ago. The gems from his smile, falling out, like crooked stars.

Before Gerard could say anything, Ray wrapped an arm around his neck, and laughed, "How about we go to Macky's and celebrate with a few beers and hamburgers?" 

Gerard smiled and agreed, but it was a hollowed out thing. Frank shook himself back to reality, and tried to play the part as a living thing, as something that belonged to this world. But the more he acted, the more he got a strange feeling, that he didn't belong anywhere.

Not above, not below, not in-between. He would always be, a lonely thing.


	27. Sucker Punch

The House Of Wolves was an old Victorian house leftover from the 1800's, it was a tall, intimidating building that had been painted jet black by the owners', the trim, the shingles, even down to the porch were all dark as ink. As if the building were a shadow that lingered too far, lamps and lanterns were strung up in the trees on the property, making it look as if ghost orbs were caught in the arms of the trees' branches. Inside, it was a bit worse for wear, spiderwebs hungs from the ceilings and the old wood floors creaked under the slightest pressure, there was a crystal chandelier that hung in the threshold that casted shadows against the walls, that looked like apparitions.

A tall dark staircase led upstairs, a dark hallway lit by purple-blushing lights guided guests to a large room at the end, like the x on a treasure map. A small, but decent stage was at the front of the room, a dance floor painted with black and white x's and o's, took up the rest of the space. In the room next door was the bar, where Ramona was waiting for the group of them.

Gerard thought the building was beautiful, as the 5 of them made their way through it, he stole glances at the intricate woodwork, and had the faintest feeling like magic was caught in the dust that floated through the air. There were a few people scattered, employees were prepping the venue for the show, later that night. Anxiety was prickling through Gerard's veins, as he watched a pair of teenagers fix the speakers at the front of the stage, it had been awhile since he had performed. 

And then there was Frank.

Earlier that day, Gerard had been on the roof of the lighthouse, with his binoculars, studying the pale crested waves as they rolled and crashed against the shore. It was a morning made for witchcraft, and electricity was hanging in the air. Gerard wasn't sure how long he had sat there for, but he was lost somewhere beneath the seafoam, his mind sunken deep in the ocean that was before him.

That is, until Frank snuck up behind him and grabbed him by the sides, shouting, "Gotcha!" In a shrill laugh, Gerard had jumped nearly out of his skin, Frank had acquired an eerie skill of being able to sneak up on anyone, without being heard, ever since he had come back. It was hilarious to Frank, and a nightmare for everyone else. The other week, he had made Mikey drop his cereal on the floor, after he had jumped out of the fridge, yelling, "Good morning!" Mikey had been cautious of retreiving milk from the fridge ever since.

"You're awful!" Gerard exclaimed, playfully smacking Frank's arm, an exasperated expression on his face, Frank's shit-eating smile was hidden behind a ghoulish Frankenstein mask, bolts were even attached to the sides of Frank's neck, glinting in the pale afternoon sun. "What's with the Halloween costume?"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Frank corrected, waggling his finger at Gerard, "It's a disguise."

Gerard raised an eyebrow at Frank as he took the mask off, revealing his smug smirk and a devious plan in his eyes. A gust of sea air rattled the platform, and nearly snatched the mask away, Frank gasped, grappling with the thing, before shoving it back into the inside of his jacket. Gerard chuckled at him, "So, Master Of Disguise, what is this for?"

"For tonight." Frank stated, as if it were obvious. Gerard's eyes widened in realization, he nodded, picturing Frank onstage with the mask, hidden in plain sight, it actually wasn't a bad idea. 

"That might actually work." Gerard grinned, Frank beamed back at him, ever since Gerard had booked the gig, Frank seemed almost back to normal, aside from the occasional moments where the room was quiet, and Gerard realized that he couldn't hear Frank's breathing, because he wasn't. It was always unnerving, the slow and rhythmic crashes of breath like waves, always a sound that he took for granted, in the absence of it, he was too aware of his own heartbeat, and how Frank didn't have one of those either.

But, Frank had gone back to playing his guitar, and calling the last person who used the toilet and didn't replace the roll after they had used all of it a, "fucking cocksucker." So, you could say that everything was back to the way it was.

Gerard just hoped that whatever happened at the concert that night, wouldn't ruin the brief period of peace for them all. But the more Gerard let his heart linger, the more he felt like God was brewing chaos in his cauldron, bubbles rising in Gerard's chest, in the form of nervous laughs and cautious glances at Frank, everytime the light shined through windows too brightly, almost as if Gerard was afraid.

But he wasn't. How could he be? It was Frank. He could never be afraid of Frank, could he?

Frank wasn't a monster. But Gerard had the awful feeling, that maybe, he was a time bomb.

And somehow that seemed worse.

 

When Gerard spotted Ramona, she was busying herself with cleaning glasses and staring off into space, as if caught in a daydream. Gerard approached her, warily. She didn't notice him at first, Gerard gave her a small wave, and she finally snapped to. She smiled at him, tiredly, and set down her glass and wash cloth, "If it isn't my best fiend."

Gerard smirked at her, coyly, "I see you look as terrible as ever." He replied, jokingly. The two of them laughed, Ramona's eyes were bright, happy to see him again, the look on her face made Gerard feel slightly better about the situation he was in.

"You changed your hair?" Ramona stated, although it sounded more like a question.

"It's part of a mourning process. I have a routine." Gerard replied, letting out a curt laugh.

Ramona's expression fell, she looked so ridiculously apologetic that it hurt. "Everybody wishes that Frank could've been here for the show tonight... he was really something special."

"Huh, I have a funny feeling that Frank won't ever truly be gone." Gerard snorted, glancing over towards the other room, where he could see Ray and Mikey tuning their guitars, Frank was nowhere to be seen, probably off somewhere hiding until the show started. The less he revealed himself to the public, the easier it would be to keep the secret. Gerard returned his attention to Ramona, she was giving him a sad smile that sent a dagger of resentment through his gut, he was tired of pity.

He raised an eyebrow, "Can you get me something to drink?"

Ramona nodded, and started listing off non-alcoholic beverages, Gerard shook his head quickly, "No, no, none of that. I was thinking more along the lines of Jack Daniels."

"But you don't drink." Ramona frowned, her expression deep set with worry.

Gerard let out a huff of breath through his nose, and ran a hand through his blonde hair, he still wasn't used to the short length of it, and was always surprised whenever he reached up and didn't feel the familiar long strands of hair, Gerard chuckled and replied darkly, "Yeah, well I guess I've changed."

Ramona got him his drink. Outside the bar, the room was starting to crowd with people, it was still early in the night, but the venue was already in full swing. Gerard eyed the people that were gathering, carefully, they gave off a different energy. They felt more used up, and at the same time electric. As if they were the sinners asking for forgiveness, and their own salvation at the same time.

Gerard couldn't help but wonder if that was just the type of people the House Of Wolves drew, as he thought back to his friends. Wretched things that couldn't be saved, but at the same time, they were a celebration, of dark things, dead things, dangerous things,

The nerves in Gerard's stomach undid themselves, as he came to a decision, that tonight, he was going to turn the house into a funeral for the living, a haunted house, for the kids that didn't have a soul.

"You okay?" Ramona asked, passing Gerard his drink.

Gerard nodded, saying mostly to himself, "I am fucking fantastic."

.

The stage lights dimmed, Frank had been hiding backstage before the show, staring at himself in the mirror, frowning at his reflection. He pulled the mask over his face, the frankenstein mask looked more menacing in the dark lighting, Frank had covered his skin in white makeup to cover the bruises and sickly coloring. Patches of purple peaked through the cheap dollar store paint, making it look blotchy. Some of the white had gotten onto the collar of Frank's shirt, which was oversized, Frank had stolen it from the merch table and had accidentally grabbed an extra large. He had been out of fresh clothes for weeks, and was sick of rummaging through Gerard's closet. However, with the new shirt, Frank found himself feeling a bit lost without the familiar smell of cigarettes and coffee that clinged to Gerard's clothing.

"Are you done admiring yourself?" Asked a voice from the door, Frank snapped his head up and saw Mikey standing in the threshold to the bathroom, his eyes held a sly smirk. "You look like the world's most miserable trick or treater." Mikey snickered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Frank rolled his eyes, "Ha! At least the world's most miserable trick or treater got a snickers bars, I came back from the dead and all I have to show for it is this awful Frankenstein mask." Frank slid the thing off, and flung it at Mikey, who caught it, clumsily.

"I missed this." Mikey mused, when Frank looked over at him, he looked faraway. As if trying to find a distant shoreline on an endless sea. There was a sorrow hidden there, that made Frank's breath catch for a second, his hands reaching out greedily to pull back the layers Mikey was hiding behind, to find the truth buried beneath it all, pure and precious like a gem.

Except he didn't, he just replied, "I did, too."

Just then, Ray stumbled into the doorway, his hair messied and his cheeks rosey, huffing in breaths in deep gulps, as if he had just ran a marathon. 

"Get your asses over here, or we're going on without you." Ray threatened.

Frank stepped forward, taking the mask from Mikey's hands, before slipping it over his face, Frank smiled at Ray and said, "You wish you could." And then marched off, into the fray.

.

The house lights dimmed, and for a second the world was plunged into total darkness, Frank could practically feel his soul suspended in mid-air, his hands hovering over his guitar like rosary beads. He was glad that no one could see him behind the mask, because Frank felt like he looked too much like a scared child. He half expected his knees to bend, knobby and quaking like teacups as they clinked together, his heart trying to escape and hold the hand of his mother.

Frank hadn't been this nervous in his life, this entire time since he had been ressurected, he felt as if he truly had nothing left to lose, if he didn't have his mortality, than he was less than human, obviously. But as he looked over at Gerard, who was standing with his head down, his hand resting on the mic, breathing quickly, looking messy and wild, and beautiful all at the same time. Then, over to Mikey, and Ray, and Bob,

Frank realized with a sudden sharpness that he had everything to lose.

The thought was terrifying. For a moment, Frank realized why love was so horrifically scary, his eyes going back to trace Gerard's silhouette, it was a death-defying feeling that Frank had thought he had forgotten, but there it was, resting in his chest like a thunderstorm. Electric, ravenous, and destructive, but also -

beautiful.

Frank was betting with more than his life, he was gambling with his heart, and trusting that the universe didn't crush it. Not now, not yet. He bit his lip, and heard Bob shout "1-2-3-4!" His drumstricks tapping together, rhythmically. Gerard sang into the mic sweetly, his expression dark, but angelic for just a moment, the crowd leaned in closer as if he had a secret for them all, "In the middle of a gunfight..." His words teased Frank like a kiss against the neck, Frank shivered.

The guitars came in, and Frank's hands were dancing across the frets without him even telling them to do so, they carried the song like wings to a bird, as Gerard screamed his lungs out. Frank realized with a mind-numbing smack to the face, that for a few moments, he didn't know what to do. He played, but his body stood rooted to the spot, Gerard must've noticed, Frank looking as hopeless as a rat caught in the jaws of a cat, because he came waltzing over, his eyes wandering shamelessly up and down Frank as if he were something to be devoured.

Frank's heart pounded in his chest, Gerard swayed around him, his inky form making it look easy, he whispered in Frank's ear as the guitar solo kicked in and Ray shredded through it, effortlessly, "You look tense." Gerard taunted, Frank glared at him from under the mask and Gerard grinned. "You remember how to dance?" Frank stared on helplessly, as Gerard rocked his hips back and forth, the crowd screaming behind him, encouraging him on.

Gerard startrd to sing again, and when he got to, "I"ll kiss your lips again," he didn't say the line, he grabbed Frank's face and smashed his lips against Frank's, it was sloppy and Frank was sure his tooth hit Gerard's, but the look on Gerard's face when he pulled away was beautiful, and devilish, in that moment everything came flooding back to Frank. He kicked into the next riff, every muscle in his body fighting, fighting, fighting.

The kids in the crowd screamed every word, never missing a beat, and watched Frank as if he were a God, as he dove across the stage. The next song came on and Frank felt like a hurricane, unkempt and ready to blow over at any moment. Gerard came towards him during the bridge and handed Frank the mic with a curiously raised eyebrow, Frank snatched it, and let out a hell-raising scream into the mic. The crowd cheered and Gerard laughed, taking the mic back, he chicken-danced away. Yes, chicken-danced. Frank couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

It was nearing the end of the set, Frank had fallen into Bob, head-banged with Ray until his ears felt like jelly, and had almost decapitated a kid in front row with his guitar. It was a successful show in Frank's book. Gerard stood up on a speaker, and proclaimed, "I drink juice when I am killing because it's fucking delicious." Just as the song ended. The lights cut, the crowd roared. Gerard's strange exclamation echoed through the air.

It was the end of the set, but Frank wanted to live in that moment forever. He was soaked with sweat, and his fingers felt raw, his neck was sore from all the head-banging, and his kneecaps had definitely gained several new bruises,

but it was perfect. Everything was perfect. Frank felt like he was magic, like he was alive.

The group of them put their instruments down, and Gerard swung his arm around Frank, as they walked offstage. All of them exhausted but exhilarated at the same time. Ray was absolutely giddy as a schoolgirl, as he bounced around, exclaiming, "That was our best show, yet!" He hugged Mikey tightly, and smacked Bob in the arm, playfully. Frank chuckled.

"You were fucking amazing." Gerard cut in, looking directly at Frank.

"I was only following your lead." Frank replied.

Gerard shook his head, but he still had a smirk on his face. Frank could tell that he wanted to say more, but before he could, he was swept away by Ray and Bob, all of them talking about getting wasted, Gerard looked over his shoulder longingly, his feet were practically dragging as they all led him away.

"He hasn't gotten drunk in a long ass time." Mikey commented. He scrunched his nose up, and said, mostly to himself, "I like him better when he's sober.

Frank had taken the mask off and was staring at it, lost in thought, he didn't respond.

.

Here's the thing, Frank hadn't meant for the following events to unfold. The hunger that had followed him so fervently was dulled whenever he was with Gerard, Frank could hardly bring himself to kill a bug, lately, much less punch a guy. But then, something happened and everything snapped like a storm in June -

Frank had taken all the makeup off with a wet sponge, the squishy material cool against his skin, the venue was hot and Frank was practically melting from sweat. He was busying himself with cleaning up, when a familiar voice called down the hall, Frank felt his heart skip a beat as he whipped around and came face to face with Brian. "Guys-" He called out, a wide smile plastered to his face, until his eyes landed on Frank. Frank stood rooted to the spot, still clutching the towel in his hand, his fingers knotted around the fabric, anxiously. Brian wore an incredulous look, as if God had just descended from the heavens and told him pigs could fly. His mouth hung open in a comical way, that almost made Frank laugh, that is, if he weren't about to actually have a heart attack.

"F-Frank." Brian finally stammered out, taking a step closer to Frank, just as he was taking a step back. "I must be losing my mind, oh god." Brian let out a laugh that sounded hysterical. He stumbled and put his hand against the wall to steady himself, Frank reached out and held on to his arm to help Brian right himself.

Frank said, calmly, "Hey, take it easy." 

This seemed to upset Brian even more though, he let out a yell, pushing Frank away, eyes wide with horror, Frank could see Brian's thoughts racing at a hundred miles per hour, "You're real?!" He exclaimed, smacking his hand to his forehead.

Frank pinched himself, and shrugged, "As the plague." 

Everything about Brian seemed to change in an instant, he no longer looked scared, he was smiling at Frank, but his canines were showing, as if he were a wolf preparing to attack. "But, that's not possible." Brian said, "I saw your body, you were dead."

Frank shifted uneasily, remembering what Ray had said about keeping Frank's secret away from Brian. That it would break him, into a hundred million pieces, it would shattering his sanity. As Frank watched Brian he noticed the way his fingers twitched like they had an itch they want to scratch, how sweat rolled off his brow, and how there was a dark shadow caught in the corner of his eye. "The technicalities don't matter. It's good to see you again." Frank replied, with a tight smile, trying to change the subject.

Frank patted Brian on the shoulder, and Brian caught his hand, frowning deeply, "You really don't trust me enough to tell me what happened?" He looked genuinely hurt.

Frank's stomach twisted, "Brian, it's not that. I am trying to protect you." Just then, the familiar sense of cherry-red blood lust started to prickle at Frank's senses, he was suddenly hyper-aware of the flutter of Brian's heartbeat, that was coming from his neck. Frank licked his lips.

"Protect me from what?" Brian hissed.

"Hey Frank, we're gonna pack up and head home-" Gerard called, out of nowhere. Relief ran through Frank, as Gerard rounded the corner to the hall and saw the two of them huddled together. Gerard stopped dead in his tracks, his face paling in the dark light, "Hi, Brian. You were supposed to meet us by the bar."

Frank gaped at Gerard and practically yelled, "You knew he was here?!" 

Gerard looked like he was about to be sick, as he nodded slowly. Brian was staring between the two of them, confusion written all over his features. "You knew about this, Gerard?" Brian asked, in disbelief, "And you didn't tell me?"

"We didn't want anyone to know! It would've put Frank in danger!" Gerard snapped back, brows furrowed in frustration. "You wouldn't understand."

Brian crossed his arms over his chest, "Then, make me understand." He waved his hand in the air, "Explain!"

Gerard sighed, he closed his eyes, the dark shadows of the hallway making him look tired and ancient, and in a way, Frank believed that Gerard's soul was older than time itself. It was why Gerard carried himself with a hunched back, Frank thought, that and be had terrible posture.

"It started on a stormy night..." Gerard began, and proceeded to spin a horror story there in that hall, with Brian, Frank and the shadows for an audience. Nobody made a sound, as they all listened intently. Frank watched Brian's face as Gerard spoke, his voice falling like the rhythm of a drum. Brian didn't have any reaction, when Gerard finished, he was still standing with his arms crossed and a thoughtful expression on his face.

He turned and looked at Frank for a few moments, blinking several times, before a slow, dangerous smile started to creep up the corners of his lips, "This is blasphemous." Brian chuckled, darkly.

Gerard was ashen, he stepped closer to Frank, as if he was scared that Brian would jump out and hurt him. "Don't be silly, we got Frank back, that's all that matters."

"Why did it work for him and not for..." Brian started, but didn't finish his sentence. Something about him seemed absolutely changed, like a werewolf under a full moon. He looked with at Gerard with a burning expression, "Why did they choose Frank and not my brother?!" Brian shouted, and then lunged towards Gerard, pushing him against the wall and pinning him there.  
The anger in Frank's chest flared like snake's venom, Brian was yelling at Gerard, spit flying out and speckling Gerard's cheeks. "You had no right to do what you did, you're just as much of a monster as he is!" Brian hissed, without looking back at Frank.

The hunger struck like lightning, all of Frank's senses felt like they were electrified, as he pulled Brian off of Gerard with brute strength, Brian let out a yelp. Gerard dropped to the ground, his hands going to his throat, massaging the red marks left over by Brian's hands. Gerard looked up as Frank pounded a sucker punch straight into Brian's skull.

Brian stumbled, and then stared at Frank in both terror and betrayal, which soon turned into red-hot anger. "They should have left you 6 feet under, that is where you belong." Brian cried out, "You don't deserve this life, you threw it away so selfishly before! My brother was forced out of his, evicted!" Brian screamed. He tried to get back to his feet, but Frank kicked him back down.

Gerard grabbed ahold of Frank's wrist, stopping him from throwing another punch. Gerard's eyes were wide like saucers, as he said in a gentle voice that was supposed to calm Frank, but somehow only angered him more, "Frank, you can't hurt him."

Frank snatched his arm away, "But he hurt you. He has to pay." A blinding ravenous rage was knawing its way through Frank's bones, until all he could feel was the head-splitting need for blood, guts and gore. "I have to hurt him." Frank breathed.

Gerard was still begging Frank to stop, as Frank threw himself at Brian, like a wolf pouncing on a rabbit.


	28. The Fox And The Crow

Gerard watched in horror as Frank tackled Brian, he could hear the sickening crunch of bones breaking under Frank's punches, Frank was on top of Brian, pinning him down. Brian had blood streaming down his face and was desperately trying to push Frank off, his eyes wide like spotlights, as he realized that Frank had no intention of stopping. "Get him off!" Brian's scream was blood curdling, it wouldn't be long before people began to notice, and the police would be called, Gerard thought to himself.

Despite Brian's distress, Gerard found himself rooted to the spot, fear was clawing its talons into the floor beneath him, making it so that he couldn't move. It wasn't until Frank got up off of Brian, his back hunched and blood that didn't belong to him, smeared across his face like a crimson scar, that Gerard realized something was deeply wrong. He loomed over Brian the way an animal would, before opening its mouth wide, and tearing its teeth into its prey's throat. Frank's eyes were black holes, he didn't even look like himself. He didn't even look human.

Frank reached over and grabbed a pair of scissors from a table, the metal glinted menacingly in the blue lights. Gerard's heart jumped into his throat, Brian let out a slow, half-delirious groan. "Frank... Frank please..." Brian cried, there were tears slipping down his cheeks, blood was welling up from Brian's mouth, sputtering across his chin as he pleaded. "Frank, we're friends, remember?" 

"Say you're sorry." Frank hissed, stalking closer and closer. 

"I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so sorry." Brian sobbed, rolling to his side, curling up into a ball, as if he were a kid. "Please Frank, don't hurt me."

Gerard looked up at Frank and saw that he had no intention of stopping whatever madness this was, Gerard finally got his body to work, as he jumped out and grabbed Frank by his shoulders, searching his eyes for anything familiar, "Frank, baby, come back to me." Gerard whispered, Frank looked startled by him, as if Gerard had just stumbled out of a dream into his reality, he stopped advancing towards Brian. Gerard swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling fearful under Frank's dark gaze, "This isn't you. Come back, come back to me, please." Gerard's words were gentle, but tinged with terror.

Frank was looking back at him, his eyes going wide with something that resembled hurt. "You're scared of me?" He asked, weakly. He sounded heartbroken, Gerard moved his hands slowly down Frank's arms, trying to take the pair of shears out of his hands before he could hurt anyone with them. However the look on Frank's face stopped him, it looked as if he had stolen all of the darkness out of the night sky, as he stared back at Gerard, horrified. "You think I am a monster, too?"

"Frank, you're my best friend, but you're... you're scaring me." Gerard replied, hesitantly.

The light in the room changed, as the bulbs started to flicker and sputter sporatically, Gerard flinched as a lightbulb exploded to the right of his head, he let out a shocked yelp. When he looked back at Frank, Frank looked like something straight out of a horror movie, bloody tears were trailing down his cheeks, and his eyes looked like they had seen millions of years worth of war, tragedy and death, as they stared Gerard down. "Get out of my way, or I'll hurt you, too."

Gerard was shaking, Brian was still moaning on the floor behind him, he was the only thing standing between Brian and Frank, the only thing that was keeping Frank from turning into the monster everyone else thought he was. Gerard put his arms out, shielding himself from Frank, as he creeped closer and closer. "You wouldn't hurt me." Gerard replied, trying his best to hide all of his shakes.

Frank laughed bitterly, when he opened his mouth, dark blood drooled from his lips, falling down onto the floor and splattering it like putrid ink, "What makes you so sure?" Frank grimaced, "You're the one who made me like this, and now you can't even look me in the eyes."

Gerard had nowhere else to go, he stopped backing away, and lowered his hands to his sides, a memory pushing itself to the front of his brain. A memory of Frank and him, up in the room where Gerard used to paint, all those months ago, when the air had been warm and sweet, and everything felt like it was soaked in honey. A glimpse of Frank and his warm, hazel eyes in the dim lighting, as he had looked up at Gerard, hopefully, after he had asked what Gerard had seen, and Gerard had replied -

"I see you." He blurted out, and Frank stopped. They were only inches apart, the fear in Gerard's stomach had settled, he met Frank's gaze, steadily, "I know you won't hurt me because I see you, the real you." 

Frank hesitated, and for a moment, Gerard could see the real Frank trapped behind his eyes, he wanted to reach inside Frank's chest and pull him out, but he didn't move. He stayed still as a stone. Frank's face softened, and he took a step closer, his familiar scent of chocolate and smoke was gone though, replaced with the stomach-churching smell of death. Gerard's breath caught in his throat, Frank leaned in close, his breath hot against the skin of Gerard's neck, as Frank whispered in his ear, "If I were you, I'd get the hell away from me." And a sob shook his body as he said it, Gerard was taken aback by his words, opening his mouth to reply, when a sharp pain pierced his side.

Gerard gasped, the pain was so intense that it blinded him for a moment, the world went dark. Frank stepped away from him, and looked as if he was seeing Gerard for the first time since the fight, his entire face paled. Gerard sunk to his knees, trying to make sense of what it was that he was feeling. He looked down at his side, and saw the blue handles of a pair of scissors, protruding from his stomach, a nauseating realization washed through Gerard's systems. Frank was screaming, crying as he bent down to try and help. "Gerard, oh god. Does it hurt? Fuck, I didn't mean for this to happen, I don't know what came over me -" Frank sobbed.

Gerard's vision was blurry, he fixed Frank with a sad smile, "Hey, it's gonna be okay." He said, putting his hand on Frank's shoulder. "This isn't your fault."

Brian started laughing darkly from where he was on the floor, he rolled himself up to a sitting position, a bloody smile cracking open his face, "You're right, Gerard, it's not his fault." He barked, "It's your's." 

Frank snapped his head around to glare at Brian, hatred washing over his usually kind face like a wave, Gerard put his hand up to Frank's cheek, and tilted his head back to meet his eyes. "Don't listen to him. Stay with me." Gerard's voice trembled, the pain felt bright, the same way shattered glass felt bright, as if it were pulsing through his veins, fiery and excruciating. "Stay with me. Stay, stay please." Gerard pleaded, his fingers were leaving trails of blood on Frank's cheek, Frank looked a bit undone, as if his soul was unraveling one thread at a time.

There was noise coming from across the room, shouting and sounds of boots marching on the floorboards, making the house groan and creak, like an old man. Gerard's eyes widened with realization, as he took in the scene around him, the blood, Brian, the scissors in his side that had probably punctured some vital organ, and Frank. Fucking... Frank. Who looked terrified out of his mind.

It was the cops.

Gerard pulled Frank in close by the collar of his shirt, clenching his teeth as he bit back another bout of blinding pain, "You... have got... to get out of here." Gerard ordered.

Frank shook his head as Gerard spoke, looking like a stubborn kid, who didn't want to be left alone. "Please, I am not leaving you." 

Gerard smiled sadly, wiping a smudge of blood off the side of Frank's mouth, "You don't have a choice." He grimaced, and then shoved Frank away. He pointed towards a door that led to a hall that let out on the bottom floor, a secret passage used for bands to easily carry their equipment up from their vans, "Go! Just fucking go!" He hissed.

Frank took one last look at Gerard, his mouth settled into an unhappy line, he looked untethered, but did as he was told, as he took off, closing the door behind him.

Brian coughed, blood sputtering from his mouth, "This isn't how I expected this night to go." He said, Gerard gave him a black look, Brian held his hands up in a peace offering. "Listen... I was out of hand."

"Yes, you were." Gerard scowled. "He had been doing so well... he was almost-"

"Normal?" Brian finished for him.

Gerard still had his mouth hanging open, as if he had dropped over a cliff of thought and was lost in the freefall. Frank had almost been himself, Gerard had practically forgotten what he really was. He squirmed under the word that popped up in his head when he tried to pin a name to it. "Fuck off. He's still Frank."

"You can't play games with God, Gerard. Life isn't chess." Brian replied, his eyes looked like glass for a second, as if he weren't even in the same room as Gerard. An old sorrow was boiling in Brian's blood.

"I already won." Gerard glowered, slowly raising himself up from the floor. He let out a grunt, his breath catching in his throat from the pain, for a moment, Gerard believed he was going to pass out. However, he regained his strength, or what little there was left of it, and sluggishly began to drag himself towards the same door that Frank had left through.

Brian clicked his tongue, laughing a little, but still looking off, a bit madly, "You're wrong." He snorted, and then turned to look up at Gerard, his eyes were wild, as if he was seeing the end of the world play out right infront of him, "You're losing, you just don't know it, yet."

It unnerved Gerard, his heartbeat picked up, as he fumbled with the doorknob, opening it just a little so that he could slip through. He quickly shut the door behind him, darkness enclosed itself around him, thick and tangible, like a pack of wolves. Gerard didn't move for a second, he could hear movement just on the otherside of the door, and Brian speaking, cheerfully, "Hello officers, I've had a bit of an accident-"

Gerard didn't stick around, to hear whatever it was that happened next. He took off down the stairs, like a thief fleeing the scene.

.

The stairs had led to another door that opened to the side of the house, it was practically pitch black outside, there wasn't any moonlight or lamps to guide Gerard as he fumbled blindly. He was at the back of the house, a small drive way led him away from the House Of Wolves, and towards a street. When he turned around, he could see red and blue police lights bouncing off the house that stood like a shadow figure in the night. People were clustered out on the porch, all of them walking towards their cars, no one paid him any attention as he passed them and made his way towards the road.

It was a cold night, Gerard shivered. He didn't even have a coat. His black t-shirt clung to him, the fabric darkened by his own blood, the scissors still hung, pitifully from the wound, Gerard was too afraid of what might happen if he took it out, removing the pressure that was possibly the only thing keeping his organs in.

"This is bad." Gerard thought to himself, dimly. He tried to push that feeling away though, trying to focus on where Frank might've run to, after he had fled. However the street he was on, was vacant, except for the occasional stray cat. Gerard was all alone.

He walked for what felt like a millennia, when an excruciating pain hit him. It felt as if his skull were splitting open, Gerard was on his knees before he even realized what was going on. His hands going up to feel at the spot right in-between his eyes, expecting to feel a knife lodged there, but there was nothing. And yet, the pain was only intensifying. Gerard let out a yell, in that moment, he wished he could die, just so the pain would end.

And then, as if the stars were listening to him, everything, mercifully, went black.

.

Gerard knew it was a vision because he was back in the forest, everything around him felt like it was watching him. Staring daggers into his back. Crows cawed from up in the trees, but Gerard didn't see any birds, or any other signs of life for that matter. There was an ever-present feeling like something terrible was about to happen, it sent shivers rushing up and down his spine, it made him want to run for his mother, but instead, he stayed glued to the spot.

"Hello?" Gerard called out, his voice sounded unused and tinny. 

"Hello." Replied another voice to Gerard's left. He jumped, reeling around, coming face to face with -

a crow, accompanied by a fox. The fox winked at him, almost sorrowfully. The crow sat on a tree stump that was about level with Gerard's hip, it shook its feathers, as if bored. "Where am I?" Gerard breathed, trying to ignore the sudden impulse to cry. A horrible sadness clung to the two creatures infront of him, like a second-skin.

"At the end of the beginning." The fox replied, as if it were obvious.

"I don't understand." Gerard responded, puzzled. "I want to go home, where is Frank?" He begged, an unbearable feeling of loss flooded his system, only comparable to the same grief he felt on the day Frank had jumped.

"You'll return there, soon enough." The fox said.

"Return where?" Gerard asked.

"Home." Answered the fox and the crow at the same time. "We all do, we all will." Their voices almost seemed to lilt, as if they were humming a song. A sweet lullaby that was meant to put Gerard to sleep, he could even feel his eyelids begin to grow heavy.

The sky above them were growing increasingly darker, clouds were collecting above like muddled thoughts, they matched Gerard's bewilderment, and only seemed to clog his brain with more fear, like cottonballs made of spiderwebs.

"Tell me what to do." Gerard begged.

"Wake up." They replied, except it wasn't in their voices, Gerard recognized the voice immediately, it belonged to Mikey. It shook him right out of the nightmare, Gerard hurdled into reality like a meteorite, as he sat bolt upright, and smacked his head right into his brother's.

Mikey let out a yelp, backing up in surprise and pain. "Ow, fuck, that was my fucking nose. Shit." He cursed.

Gerard felt the rough cement digging into his palms, as he pushed himself up. Discomfort stabbed at his side, and he remembered the scissors. He groaned, "Mikey, I need help." 

Mikey was still frowning over his glasses, and started to reply, sarcastically, "Really? What gave you that impression? The fact that you're lying on the side of the road or -"

"I've been stabbed." Gerard answered, matter-of-factly.

Mikey looked as if he didn't believe him at first, so Gerard lifted his shirt up to show Mikey the pair of scissors that were lodged up to the handle in his side, blood was congealed over it, and covered practically his entire stomach. It looked like something out of a horror movie. Mikey's eyes grew wide and he screamed, "Fuck! Ray, holy shit, get out here!" 

It was then, that Gerard noticed the van, parked across the street. Ray leaned out the window, looking annoyed, "Who's getting murdered? Geez, calm down." He said, as he opened the door and slid out of the driver's seat.

Mikey was panicking, and looked like he had no clue what to do to help his brother. Gerard was going in and out of the situation, he felt as if he were standing just outside of his body. His brother's worry didn't even dent the calm state he had entered, as if he were floating somewhere above everything else.

Ray came over, and when he saw Gerard, immediately switched from being nonchalant, to being capable and calm, as he ordered Mikey on what to do.

The last thing Gerard remembered, was being picked up and carried off of the sidewalk, Mikey's distraught expression dancing in and out of focus above him, as he pleaded, "You better not fucking die on me, Gerard."

And then everything went black.


	29. Sewing Needles

Mikey was scared to wits end, as he held his brother's head in his lap in the backseat of Ray's van. Ray was cursing, speeding through the night like a bat out of hell, his calm composure wearing thin with each glance he took in the rearview mirror. "How did this even happen?! Who was with him?!" Ray exclaimed, amd then cursed as he swerved the vehicle to the right, narrowly avoiding hitting a stray cat that had wondered out onto the street. It had started raining, hard, it washed out all other noise, so that Ray had to shout to be heard over it. 

Bob was sitting in the passenger seat, looking pale as a ghost as he replied, "Frank. Frank was with Gerard."

They all got very quiet, a nagging feeling of Knowing without actually, was tugging at Mikey's chest. He imagined Frank, and the way he looked when he had been told what Gerard had done, the look of feral rage, like a stray dog lurking in the shadows, red-eyed and hungry. Gerard stirred, his lips moved but only nonsense was coming out, Mikey bit his tongue to keep himself from crying. He felt like he was 8 years old again, and Gerard and him were once again riding their bikes down the hill by their childhood home, it had been a gloomy day, but Mikey had always liked it that way. Something about the clouds shrouded the world with a little bit of mystery, that made Mikey's skin buzz. 

The hill was steep, but they had gone down it a million times before. It was like second nature. Gerard was smiling brightly, just as he hit a rock that had been jutting out of the ground like a shark tooth, he had gone flying over the handle bars of his bike, and had landed on his back, his body so still that it looked unnatural. Mikey remembered the cold, steely terror that had run through his veins, as he slammed on his brakes, and went running to his brother. Everything in his soul feeling as if it were in danger, in danger of losing something important.

That same awful terror filled Mikey's head now, like waves on a stormy ocean. 

"Mikey." Gerard whispered, like a far-away call, in a reality that Mikey couldn't reach, but Gerard was stuck in. 

Mikey tensed, his hands were shaking, they were covered in his brother's blood, and it felt like poison. The world seemed like it was spinning off its axis, like a carnival ride gone wrong, lights blurred together and voices faded, until all that was left was the backseat, the blood, and the car ride home. The world felt small again, the way it did when Mikey and him were little, and they used to spend days in the backyard catching bugs and pretending to be more than what they were.

Mikey, caught sight of something outside of the window, in the corner of his eye. Like the coat-tail of a dream, or a nightmare, it was there one minute and gone the next. Mikey frowned, for a second, because he thought he saw a crow, with enormous, dark wings that looked like they had been made from the pitch-black oblivion of death, even the car smelled a bit foul. Like rotting flesh. 

"What is that smell? Jesus." Ray chimed in, stating what everyone was thinking. He lifted his shirt up over his nose to make a mask, scowling.

"Probably a dead skunk." Bob replied, non-chalantly. Although, an uneasiness hung in the air. After what happened with Frank, they all knew that smell too well, the stench of dead things and forgotten wishes, that were never spent, that clung to their nightmares like a curse, or something worse.

Just then, Gerard's eyes snapped open, he looked like he was a bit insane, like he had just peered over the ledge of time and could see the end of the world playing before his eyes like a picture show, "He's in the woods. He's coming for blood." his voice was haunted by hounds of what was yet to be, as he said, hauntingly, "He will find us."

"Who?" Mikey asked, terrified.

"The Reaper." Gerard replied, before going limp.

.

When they pulled up to the lighthouse, Bob and Ray jumped out of the van and then yanked open the door to the back, Bob, being the strongest out of them, gently picked Gerard up, Gerard looked too small and too fragile in his arms, like a china doll, his skin pale and sickly, Mikey half expected to see cracks running across his cheeks, down from his hollowed eyes. The rain was pouring down in buckets, when Mikey got out he was drenched within seconds, they all ran to the safety and warmth of the lighthouse, Ray held the door open for all of them, and then slammed it closed once they were all in, as if he were scared a beast might follow them inside, if he didn't lock the door extra tight.

Bob was laying Gerard down on the couch, Gerard was clutching his side, his eyes glazed over and unfocused, staring up at the corner of the room. The blood was oozing from the wound, it reminded Mikey a bit of a deer that had been shot. Ray was shouting, but Mikey could barely hear him, "I need dental floss, sewing needles and peroxide!" He was screaming, running around the house like a mad man set loose. When Mikey didn't move, Ray stopped his frantic fit, and walked over to him slowly, "Mikey, I need you." He said, coaxing.

Mikey looked up at him, Ray's face was open like a book, everything about him said that he was just as scared as Mikey, that he felt just as small under the weight of the situation as everyone else, which was somehow comforting. Mikey relaxed, "I can go get the dental floss." He replied, and Ray looked visibly elieved.

He turned to Gerard, his eyes sharp and determined like a man who had been stranded at sea for a month, who had just seen land. Wild, and a bit crazed, but clinging to the opportunity of the moment the same way light holds close to the moon, borrowed but beautiful. "You aren't leaving us today, asshole." Ray barked, "Of all people you should know you can't get rid of us that easily."

Despite himself, Mikey laughed, and then turned to get the dental floss.

.

It took hours, Ray had dipped the sewing needles into peroxide, and then painstakingly had threaded them with the dental floss. The couch fabric was soaked with blood by the time Ray got to work, he had been terrified that Gerard would bleed out completely before he could sew up the wound. He had to carefully remove the scissors, the metal tips coated in sticky, crimson blood that made Ray gag a little. They winked at him the same way the Fate's laugh at a dying man before cutting his life line. Ray had placed them on the table beside him, disdainfully. 

After a while, Ray had worked out a rhythm. Time passed quickly, but slowly all at once. The whole time Ray worked, a question with an obvious and terrifying answered swirled around his brain.

"Who could have done this?" He thought. He looked up at Gerard's face, he was pale as a sheet, his skin almost translucent, the veins dark blue beneath. There was blood everywhere, it was smeared across his face, making him look as if he had battled 1,000 men all on his own. Ray sighed, leaning back, taking a second to breathe, he placed a hand against Gerard's neck, checking for a pulse, it answered Ray's touch, steadily. "Gerard, I won't let this happen to you, again." Ray promised.

As he said that, an image of Frank, Ray's friend. Devilish but kind, his eyes always lit with some burning ache that couldn't ever really be put out, until it burned him up completely. Always looking a bit out of place, like the moon in the afternoon. 

Ray stopped himself, frowning. A newer image flicked across his mind, of Frank, eyes bloodshot and angry, so, so angry. As if he had tasted God, and had found out that divinity was poison. His skin, blue and inhuman, always looking like he was on the edge between this life and the next, always trying to escape the prison that Gerard had unknowingly locked him in.

And Frank was nowhere to be seen, proving Ray's creeping suspicion to be true that he had had something to do with the events of that night. If it was true, then Frank couldn't be trusted and he wasn't a friend. Ray's heart ached as he looked back to Gerard, who he knew would go to the end of the world, without question, for Frank. Who would cut out his tongue, who would sacrifice his humanity, as if Frank were a church and Gerard was a devotee gone too far. If Ray didn't protect Gerard, then something very bad was going to happen, he could feel it in his bones.

Ray rolled his shoulders, trying to massage the growing knot in his neck. He picked back up where he left off, dipping the needle beneath the skin, finishing up the last little bit. When Ray realized he was done, he stood up quickly, and marched over towards the door. An idea growing in his mind like vines stretching over decayed bones, choking and almost venomous. He swung the front door open, the wind blowing in immediately and soaking Ray's front. His eyes landed on the sunflower patch, at the middle, where Frank's coffin had been. Ray walked out, like a storm cloud marching on the horizon, dark, destructive and inevitable.

.

Ray had used the discarded boards that had once been apart of Frank's coffin and was currently hammering them against the windows and doors to the lighthouse. Mikey had heard, obviously, and had ran out to see what the hell the noise was all about. "What is this, Doomsday Preppers?!" Mikey screamed, trying to be heard over the wind.

"Just a little home-improvement." Ray replied, nonchalantly, his voice muffled as he talked acround a nail that he was holding in his mouth. He took it out and placed it against the board, lining it up, before he started hammering on that, too. 

Mikey winced everytime the hammer struck, after a few moments, he reached out and put a hand on Ray's shoulder to stop him, "What is this really about?" Mikey prodded.

Ray met Mikey's gaze, a flash of lightning lit up the sky in silver cracks, like the world was splitting itself in two, in some ways Ray felt like it really was. The divide between them and Frank seemed almost apocalyptic. Rain was dripping off of Mikey's nose and chin, making him look like a dog that had lingered too far from home, Ray smiled sadly to himself, "It's about Frank."

Mikey tensed, Ray got the feeling that he had the same suspicions about who exactly had stabbed Gerard, still, Mikey questioned, "What about him?"

"I think he hurt Gee, so I am making sure that that bastard can't touch him again." Ray growled, and then struck another nail into the board on the wall, Mikey cowered under the noise. "Not until Frank gets his shit sorted."

For a second, Ray expected Mikey to protest. Afterall, they were all friends with Frank, he was like a brother, pushing him away like this felt more like treason, like a family tree being chopped to the ground to wither and fester like an open wound. Betrayal and loss would bloom from the leaves and roots, like bitter seedlings. Ray didn't care though, he had to protect Gerard, because Gerard was too blind to protect himself.

Mikey sighed, and to Ray's surprise, said, "I agree with you, Frank is too unstable." He looked down at the ground, almost as if he was ashamed of the words as they tumbled from his mouth like fallen stars, "We have to keep him away from Gerard."

Thunder struck, and both of their expression were grave. Ray nodded, he was finished with the "renovations", and followed Mikey back towards the front door, where orange light spilled onto the wet steps that led up to the door, like a puddle of warmth. Ray turned, looking over his shoulder, his hair was prickling on the back of his neck, strangely, he felt as if there was someone who was right behind him, staring daggers into his back. And yet, when he turned around there was nothing there.

Ray shivered, as he went to close the door behind him, he held his hammer close. Less like a tool, and more like a weapon.


	30. Heaven's Gate

When Gerard woke up, the first thing he noticed was the rain. Soft and delicate, against his windowsill, pattering quietly like a mother's gentle hum as she brushed out a child's hair. Then, there was something else, a chill that seeped into his bones and sent a shiver running down his spine, he bolted upright in bed, terror tingling through every nerve-ending in his body. A sharp pain shot up through his side, and Gerard remembered the events leading up to this moment. Suddenly, the once soft and comfortable bed sheets below him, felt more like an enclosed coffin.

However, there were bigger things to worry about, things like the shadow that was standing at the very edge of his bed, still as a stone. Gerard blinked several times, wondering if he was seeing a ghost, before he made sense of the shape before him.

It was Frank.

"Are you Edward Cullen now?" Gerard piped up, a small, tired smile pulling up the right corner of his lip. 

Frank stepped into the moonlight, his eyes looking so guilty and apologetic that it sent another stab of pain through Gerard's heart, as if it were a stake. "Gerard, I am so fucking sorry."

"Huh, watching me while I sleep AND dramatic proclamations, do you think they'll get Robert Patterson to play you too? I think he's too soft, they'd need someone more..." Gerard trailed off looking for a word.

"Gerard, please -" Frank scoffed, Gerard couldn't see his eyes, but could tell that Frank was rolling them, which made him snicker to himself.

"They'd need someone who's more of an asshole." Gerard finally finished, cutting Frank off. 

For a moment neither of them spoke, Gerard held Frank in a steady gaze, waiting for him to make a move. Despite the stab wound in his side that was currently held together by something that Gerard could tell would be strongly questionable by the the FDA, Gerard couldn't move himself to have any resentment towards Frank. By the look on Frank's face he had tormented himself enough as punishment. Gerard scooted until he was at the edge of the bed, his feet hitting the floor below, he stretched his arms out, motioning for Frank to come to him.

Frank stayed still for only a moment, before giving in, the same way the sun finally obliges to nightfall, as he crumpled into Gerard's embrace as if he were the horizon, his touch made Gerard feel gold and pale pink, Frank was not warm like he used to be, but his form was familiar, like a ghost of a smile hinted on the lips of a love that has been almost forgotten, but not quite. Frank fell between his legs, resting his head against Gerard's stomach, burying his face into his shirt, so that when he spoke, his voice was muffled, and Gerard could feel his lips move against his skin, "Does it hurt?" Frank asked, sounding small.

"Only a little, I'll get over it." Gerard replied, running his hands through Frank's hair. It was damp from the rainfall outside, but Gerard didn't mind. 

"You're not safe around me." Frank finally said, pushing away from Gerard, when he looked up at him, Frank's eyes were wide and fearful. It broke Gerard's heart that he had made Frank into someone who feared himself so greatly, especially since Frank's heart was once so warm, now it was a burden that weighed him down like a weight, that threatened to sink all of them, to keep them prisoner at the bottom of the sea of loss in Frank's chest. "I've got to leave you, but I don't know how." 

"Then, don't." Gerard responded, his voice cracking at the end, he tilted Frank's chin up. "I will live, but what good is that if I am not with you?" 

"You don't know what you're talking about, you're delirious from all that blood loss." Frank groaned, shifting so that Gerard couldn't see the pain etched so deeply into his face, as if he had shifted to the dark side of the moon. 

"Frank, I raised you back from the dead, because I couldn't be without you. Don't try to make me leave, you're stuck with me." Gerard laughed a little, although Frank didn't look as if he felt any better.

"Something comes over me, it's burning, I'd call it possession but it is so much deeper than that. It doesn't feel like someone else, it feels like -" Frank was talking too fast, he had tilted back, his back hunched over, arms crossed over his chest, as he rambled to the floor, like a house that was collapsing in on itself.

"Frank-" Gerard started, falling to the floor beside him, grabbing Frank by the shoulders, trying to bring him out of his head.

"Gerard, I wanted to hurt you." Frank finally yelled, his voice bounced off the walls like a call for God shouted by a dying man. Frank had tears in his eyes, "You don't understand, I can't live with myself if something happens to you. You're all i got, you're... you're home to me." Tears were streaming down Frank's face, the moonlight caught them, and made them look like silver rivulets that glittered, tragically. 

Gerard felt like he had been here before, back on the beach. So scared to hurt Frank after the horror he had seen, scared that love would feel more like a bomb than a blessing, and in some ways it was, but in others -

in other ways, the bombs were the blessings. Because at least there was still something to destroy, and in that moment, Gerard realized that his curse was to be blessed by Frank, and destroyed by him all at the same time. 

Gerard gave Frank a half-lit smile, that suggested his heart was heavier than he was letting on. He sighed, "Frank, I trust you." 

"What good is that if I don't trust myself?" Frank scoffed, sniffling softly. He looked ethereal in the lighting, his eyes dark, and his skin pale like starlight. 

Gerard didn't respond for a moment, only moonlight filled the space between them, if Gerard listened hard enough, he swore that he could hear the steady sound of the Earth tilting, the sound of stars forming and falling there in that bedroom. Everything felt so much bigger than them. But Frank still looked like the only thing that mattered, "Frank, I am not scared of you."

"But what if I hurt-" Frank started all over again.

Gerard laughed, darkly, "Then fucking hurt me, tear me apart, shoot me, fucking crack my bones in two, or whatever it is you want to do to me, just don't... don't leave me." Gerard trailed off at the last part, his eyes wandering, searching Frank's face to see if he understood what Gerard was really trying to tell him.

"You're fucking insane, why would you say shit like that?" Frank snapped back, sounding angry, but his face was open, full of fear and desperation, and something else... hope.

"You said it yourself... you're my home. Where you go, I go." Gerard said, simply.

Neither of them dared breathe in that moment, that is, until Frank surged forward like a wave crashing upon a shore, pressing his lips against Gerard's, getting lost in the familiar mystery of whatever universe laid there in between them, kissing him, until they both saw

stars.

.

It was a November morning, fog hung low over the sunflower field like a cat, stretching itself out, rolling off the sea in thick waves. All the colors in the world seemed wash out, tired, as if still sleeping. The sun was nowhere to be seen, as Mikey crept out of the house, he couldn't stand to be inside of it. Ray paced relentlessly, as if he were readying himself for a danger that was inevitable, the more Mikey told him this, the more Ray seemed reluctant to give into it. 

Bob read the shelves' worth of Gerard's books, which was a shock in itself, Mikey hadn't seen Bob pick up a book in his life, much less take interest in one. Gerard had really put a spell of unease over the house, and it was really starting to make Mikey's skin crawl. So, he had woken up before the sun had, and had taken his camera and hung it around his neck like a protection charm, only stopping to pull on a jacket and a scarf, so that he wouldn't catch a cold. 

Mikey never really knew what he was trying to encapsulate with his photos, sometimes he hoped for magic, for something deeper than what his naked eye could provide him. A lot of the times, however, they were just photographs, that left him feeling a bit like he was spending his life looking through a lens, and was never really apart of the picture, to begin with.

Mikey tried not to think about the latter, as he snapped pictures of the crows that sat high up in the trees, watching him, and then of the power lines that looked like crosses, a neighborhood crucifixion of sanity could take place on the telephone poles, Mikey imagined. He liked the idea of it, and so he took a picture, when he looked back at it, it was just a wooden pole with some wires, Mikey sighed heavily.

Morning birds called out to each other like lovers sending letters across continents, with their hearts pressed to the stamps, like quiet prayers that are more heavenly than any hymn. Mikey leaned into their noise, closing his eyes, allowing himself to become apart of whatever dance they were weaving, up in the sky above him. For a second, Mikey wished for nothing more than to have wings, so he could just fly away from everything on Earth, but he couldn't.

He had Gerard.

Mikey opened his eyes again, and gasped when he saw a woman standing not too far away from him. She was at the edge of the cliff, her skin was pale, her hair loose and dark, fluttering around her like leaves. She looked just like anyone else, but something about her, struck Mikey as something so profoundly sad, he could hardly breathe. He could only stare, he felt tears rolling down his cheeks, heavy like rain drops, he wondered if when they fell to the Earth, if they would plant nothing but more sorrow. He hoped not. He cursed to himself, he couldn't stop crying.

He reached for his camera, knowing in that moment, he needed a photo of her. He didn't know why, but every nerve in his body screamed that it was important. So, Mikey took the cap off the lens and clicked the button, as if it were a trigger. When Mikey looked back at the photo, the woman was staring right at him, her eyes wide, and strange, as if she too, knew that something was very wrong.

Mikey couldn't help but note that she looked exactly like Frank, and when he looked back up, she was nowhere to be seen. As if she had fallen over the edge of the cliff, headfirst into the seafoam below.

.

It had been a few weeks, Gerard was finally strong enough to get out of bed and move on his own without nearly fainting. Ray worried over him like a frantic mother, to everyone's amusement. Ray had nearly had a heart attack when he had come into Gerard's room late one night, after a loud sound that had rattled the floor boards, to find Gerard perched precariously up on a stool, with a paint brush clutched between his teeth, and a fallen over paint tub on the floor, spilling yellow paint on the floor boards. On the ceiling, though, when Ray had looked up, Gerard watched as his face paled. His mouth dropping open in shock, because on the ceiling, was heaven's gates.

Gerard had painted a golden sky, that looked as wonderful as a daydream left behind in a field of wildflowers, that he had plucked straight out of a June afternoon. It was so unlike his usual work, Gerard could see the bewilderment on Ray's features, and laughed to himself.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ray had asked, finally, still standing in the doorway. The paint was slowly inching towards Ray's feet, threatening to ruin his brand new vans. 

"Isn't it obvious?" Gerard shrugged, holding up the paint brush.

"Yeah, okay, no shit, you're painting... but why?" Ray asked, at a loss for words, when he looked back up at the ceiling, "Why does it look like it is straight out of the Sistine Chapel?"

"Frank said he wanted to see heaven, and was scared he'd never be able to." Gerard replied, evenly. He was telling the truth, he saw something shift in the corner of his eye, from the closet, where Frank, after knocking over the paint tub in the first place, had gone to hide.

A dark shadow had crossed over Ray's face, "Frank hasn't been anywhere near here, Gerard." Ray scowled, and then started to back out of the room, Gerard was still staring back at him, expectantly. Ray sighed, "Just... don't pop the stitches in your side, I don't wanna have be cleaning your guts off the floor later."

"Love you too, Toro." Gerard had called back, as Ray had shut the door.

Gerard's eyes had drifted back to Frank, who was glaring at him from the closet. It had been a close call, Frank had been sneaking into the light house since day one, every day at 3 a.m. he'd stay until dawn, and for a few hours they'd do nothing but exist in a different world, there in that bedroom. Gerard knew that if Ray found out, he'd lose his shit. The rest of the group was still so terrified of Frank after the stabbing incident.

Frank had crept out of the closet, and was cleaning up the paint, he didn't curse like he normally did out of frustration, instead his movements seemed mechanical, as if he were being controlled by something else. The more Gerard watched him from up on the stool, the more he got a bottomless feeling that suggested something was not what it seemed. When Frank turned back to him, Gerard's gut had twisted, because his expression hadn't been his own. It was more hollow, more strange, as if he had swapped his soul for somebody else's.

And then Frank had smiled at Gerard, and he was himself again. But Gerard couldn't shake the idea, the nagging sense of something being misplaced, for the whole time after. Everything in his body telling him, to watch his back, for fear that he might find a knife in it, or something worse.

.

It was a blustering night outside, the winds coming off from the ocean howled against the lighthouse, making the old wood moan under the force. Gerard, Mikey and Ray all sat hunched on the floor with blankets for capes, playing "Go Fish" by candlelight, while Bob slept soundly on the couch. It was a peaceful evening.

"You got any 3 of hearts?" Mikey drawled, eyeing Ray suspiciously over his card deck. He had been suspecting Ray for cheating the entire game.

"Go fucking fish." Ray grinned. Mikey sighed annoyedly, and drew another card from the pile. Gerard watched the two of them with a small smirk.

"Gerard, please tell me, do you have a king of spades" Mikey begged. 

Gerard was about to respond, when there was a small knock at the door. The three of them all went rigid, they had become paranoid over the past few months, as their lives had all turned into a horror movie. Late night visitors were something that made Gerard's heart race, when they never used to. "Who is that?" Mikey piped up, his voice sounding too high for anyone's liking.

"Maybe it is a salesman." Gerard suggested, hopefully.

"It is 11 p.m., I fucking doubt that." Ray replied, as he sat his deck of cards down on the floor, revealing he had had a 3 of hearts all along. Mikey pretended not to notice, he was too scared. Gerard had been expecting him to walk over to the door and answer it, but instead, Ray had gone straight to the kitchen. Gerard could hear him rustling around in the drawers, as if searching for something. Gerard wished he knew what. There was another round of knocks that made them all flinch.

Mikey groaned, "Gerard, just go answer it. It's probably nothing." 

Gerard looked from his brother to the door, and got the most awful feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. The same dread a rabbit must feel when it comes to a dead end, and realizes it is going to be devoured by wolves. Gerard got up from the floor, the pain in his side complaining with every move he made. Ray had returned from the kitchen, and had something that he was holding behind his back. Gerard hesitated by the door, feeling as if he was going to get in serious trouble if he opened it. 

"Open it, Gerard." Ray ordered, his expression had darkened. 

Gerard tilted his head up to the ceiling, letting out a frustrated sigh, before righting himself, and reaching for the door knob. However, he never got to twist the handle, as the door swung open itself. They were greeted by an icy wind that swept into the house, sending a chill deep into Gerard's bones, along with a silouhette, standing in the doorway. "Step into the light." Ray demanded, he still had his arm behind his back.

Gerard didn't have to see the person's features to know that it was Frank, as he stepped forward, the candlelight from the room illuminated his face, which was drawn, a cloud made him look stormy. Gerard frowned, immediately, "Frank, what's wrong?" He asked, just as the others shouted at Gerard to step away.

Frank wouldn't look up at the others, he was staring at Gerard in the most peculiar way. "We need to talk." He said, stepping closer.

"Frank, I swear to fucking god, get away from him!" Ray growled, Mikey had jumped up from his place on the ground and was guarding Gerard protectively, as if Frank were a grizzly bear.

"Or what, Ray?!" Frank barked back, eyes suddenly wild again. The same red blood rage creeping into them.

Ray brandished what it was that he had been hiding behind his back, it was a hammer, Gerard got a sickening feeling in his stomach. This was not going to end well. "Or I'll crack your skull open."

"You can't hide from me forever." Frank laughed, bitterly. "I thought we didn't abandon friends." 

"Shut up." Ray bit back. 

It all happened so fast, Frank took a step forward and then Ray threw thr hammer as hard as he could, it went spinning across the room, until it impaled itself straight into the center of Frank's forehead. Cracking the bones beneath, dark liquid that looked like rotten blood, dripped from the wound, and the skin beneath it purpled. They all stared in horror, looking between Ray, who had paled and looked so guilty that it hurt, and Frank who didn't seem to have a reaction at all.

"Ouch." Frank said. He reached up, and yanked the hammer out of his now fractured skull, he threw to the ground and it made an Earth-shaking clattering noise. They all were holding their breaths, as Frank stated, simply, "They let my dad out of jail."

From the couch, Bob finally stirred, groggily waking up to the scene, and frowning deeply as he said, "What did I miss?"


	31. Save Yourself, Learn Bass

After the initial chaos, everyone settled down. Frank sank into the cushions of the faded green couch, everyone's eyes were on him, like spotlights. For the first time, Frank felt himself a bit burned by their attention. He stared up at Gerard, who's face was marked with concern, his hazel eyes like pools. He was doing a poor job of hiding his glances at Frank's splintered skull, trying to pretend like he wasn't repulsed for Frank's own good. But he could see, that behind Gerard's eyes, there laid a fear, the same fear that lies within every living thing when it comes to death. Death's cold fingers could never hold a mortal's soul so gently, not without squashing it completely, Frank was proof of that. It was terrifying. 

For a moment, all Frank wanted to do, was sleep.

"Frank, how could they let your dad go? After all he's done to you?" Gerard pushed, sounding angry. Mikey was still in between the two of them, but had stopped acting as if Frank would snap at any moment, although his eyes still looked wary. Gerard was glaring at Ray, as if everything was his fault, "They can't do that!" Raising his voice, as if saying it, would make it true.

Ray had shrunken in on himself, from guilt, he was still staring down at the hammer that laid uselessly on the floor, speckles of blood covering the metal, "I agree... that can't be legal." Ray said, looking over to Frank.

Frank had a bitterness that had grown around his heart, he had learned after hearing it on the television in a coffee shop. The news anchor talking about the case as if it were nothing but small talk, just another poor soul who's life was ruined by a monster. The news anchor had added at the end of the story, how they still hadn't found Frank's mother, and the case was starting to grow cold, like bodies left behind in snow embankments after an avalanche, no traces of foot prints to mark their frozen graves. Frank's heart felt as if it had a dagger shoved through it, he wanted nothing more than to take it from his chest, and plunge it straight into the man who caused him all this pain's heart,

His father.

When Frank started to speak, his words rolled off the edge of a cruel laugh, "One of his friends bailed him out." He spat. The others shifted uncomfortably, "They bought his freedom... as if money can wash away what he's done." Mikey came over and sat down next to Frank, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"He won't get to you. We'll protect you, Frank. You don't ever have to see him again." Mikey tried to sound reassuring.

Frank smacked his hand away, and growled, "Oh, I hope he gets to me, I hope he tries to come near me, cause if he does-"

"Frank." Gerard cut him off, Frank snapped his eyes up to him, Gerard had his fists balled at his sides, and was shaking his head, "You're better than that." 

Frank opened his mouth to argue, but found he didn't have the strength. He wanted to say that Gerard was wrong, he wasn't better than the hate he'd been given. He was so much worse. The thunderstorm he had lived through had left him with lightning scars marking his heart, his brain was the sound of sirens falling over a city as inevitable destruction hung over it, he knew death more intimately than any other man, more than Persephone herself. Frank was a harbinger, an omen, a deathwish.

But he couldn't say all of that, not without surely upsetting them. So, he remained silent. 

"Do you think he'll get what is coming to him, though?" Mikey asked, eyes wide and a bit nervous as he looked between Frank, Ray and Gerard.

"Karma is a bitch but... it rarely curses bastards." Gerard replied, a bitter scowl on his face. Frank felt his insides twist at the remark, because it was true,  the wicked always found a way to survive, like rats during a plague, like demons feasting on the living. Corrosive, threatening to eat all good things whole.

.

The following morning, it snowed. Dusting the now wilting sunflowers like sugar, the early morning sunlight shone off the sprawling grass and turned everything into something almost heavenly, with its golden light. It was only November, but Jack Frost already had plans in mind, the light house was freezing, Frank was sitting across from Gerard at the coffee table. Ray and Mikey were still fast asleep. Ray had agreed to let Frank stay, partly out of guilt and partly out of pity, for the events of the past 24 hours. Frank couldn't sleep, and so Gerard woke up early so he didn't have to spend the morning alone.

Gerard was still wearing his pajamas, his silver hair ruffled slightly like an upset bird, he rubbed his eyes tiredly, his face tilted into his coffee cup where steam was rising up from the drink. Frank smiled a little, enjoying Gerard's sleep-edged features, they made him look softer, as if he were made from pastels. Gerard noticed his small smirk, and returned it, "It's been awhile since I've seen that smile." He remarked.

Frank flushed a little, his face falling back into its usual scowl, "It's been awhile since I've had something to smile about." He replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Gerard laughed, "And so what is the reason for it today?" He asked, curiously. Light was pouring in from the dusty windows, and was hitting Gerard's face so that he looked somewhat golden, and not quite real. He was looking at Frank with a knowing smile, that made his heart take a familiar stutter in its step.

Frank opened his mouth to respond, wanting to say, "You, always you." Because it was true, Gerard was the only thing that quieted whatever violence that played out in Frank's mind, a key to Frank's doomsday device. Frank wanted to tell him all of that, and so much more, he'd spend eternity there at that coffee table, taking sips from their drinks in the frosty November sunlight, just to say that if Gerard were the stars, then he was an astronomer, always trying to pull him closer.

But they were interrupted, as most good moments are. Mikey came running down the stairs, nearly tripping down the last few, in his slippered-feet. "Nice kicks." Frank teased, snickering into his coffee cup.

Gerard had immediately turned quiet, looking up at his brother worriedly. Mikey looked as if he was about to be sick, as he held his cellphone up in the air like it was an ancient text that was going to save them all. "Have you checked twitter?"

"Not this morning." Gerard replied, tiredly.

Mikey bit his lip, glancing between Gerard and Frank. He padded over to them, and handed Gerard his cellphone. "The search parties for Frank's mom had a successful night." Mikey explained, Gerard's eyes scanned the phone, before his face went stark white. Frank immediately felt his heart drop, he knew bad news when he saw it, and whatever they had uncovered was anything but good.

"What is it? Gerard, what did they find?" Frank pushed, trying to take the phone from Gerard, but Gerard yanked his hand back, looking up at Frank unsteadily. Frank felt like there were demons clawing their way out of his stomach, images of his mother in danger, or worse flashing through his mind. "Gerard, what did they fucking find?!" Frank pleaded, and then looked up at Mikey who was pointedly looking away.

Gerard let out a slow breath, and handed the phone to Frank, his eyes full of something that looked like rage and sympathy. He got up from his chair, and then kicked it, letting out a frustrated yell as he did, "Dammit!"

Frank's hands were shaking as he read the thread, they had found his mother's body near the old park that his dad used to take Frank to when he was small. Her body was thrown into a dumpster, and had been left there for weeks, they said, her body was barely recognizeable from all the bruises and contusions, and apparent racoons that had been feeding off the corpse. They had discovered her late last night, the park was one of the last areas on their list to search, they had only been alerted to the body when someone had pointed out a foul smell that was coming from it. Frank's heart was hammering in his chest as he read the comments that all were saying what a horrible tragedy it was, because they only made the situation so much more real.

He threw the phone back at Mikey, his eyes wide, his breaths coming in too quickly. "He did that. My dad fucking did that, he killed her." Frank was hyperventilating, he had stood up from the chair, and was shaking, badly. His brain felt like it were a train that had derailed. He thought back to when he had been trapped in the closet, all those months ago, how he had wished on every single last star that his mom would find him, and she never did. A bitter stab of self loathing at his own selfishness pierced his soul, as he realized, while he had been worried about himself, she had been spending her final hours with his dad, that she had been -

Frank must've been freaking out horribly, Gerard was trying to calm him. Telling him to sit down, but he couldn't, a feeling of sheer shock, as if he had just seen a car crash play out in front of him, was gripping his mind. "Frank, we're going to sort this out -" Gerard started.

Frank pushed him away, "She's dead! There's no such thing as sorting this out, Gerard! There's only revenge!" Frank cried, and as soon as he said it, a chilling calm filled his veins, cool and icy like mercury. The more he thought about it, the more his muscles ached with the need to fit his fingers around the cool edge of a knife. As if all of his rage had been building just for this, to find his father and -

"Frank, whatever you're thinking isn't the answer." Gerard cut in, his expression hard and burning, as if he could read Frank's mind. His lips settled into a thin line, "You can't fix this with more violence."

"I've been brought back from the dead, Gerard. I've been to hell and back, literally." Frank started, his voice even as he spoke, his words floating like the vendetta of a dead man, with conviction and fire, "I was made to take that man to hell with me, and you can't deny me of that."

"You're making the wrong decision, you're in shock." Gerard replied, his eyes pleading as he reached out for Frank.

Frank side stepped his reaching arms, as if they were hounds trying to drag him to the devil himself. He took one last look at the two brothers, who were mirror-images of both worry and pure fear, before bolting for the door.

Frank was already starting Ray's van, as Gerard and Mikey came running out the front door after him, both of them shouting for Frank to stop, as Frank slammed his foot to the floor, pedal to the metal, racing off into the blinding mid-morning daze, with only one thing on his mind,

Murder.

.

Gerard watched as Frank peeled off, the tires kicking up dirt as he did. Feeling as if he had just had the breath knocked from his lungs, he knew Frank was in pain, but he hadn't ever seen him so detached from himself. Snow had started to fall like quiet tears slipping from the face of a mourning mother, they clung to Gerard's eyelashes and hair, sending shivers up and down his spine. The world was too quiet for the chaos that Frank was about to unearth, and Gerard couldn't help but feel terrified about how it would be so easy, to just shatter everything they once knew, until their lives laid at their feet like Icarus's wings, torn from his back.

When Gerard got in his car to follow Frank, he noticed the moon hanging in the sky above. A crescent thumbnail, just a ghost in the pale mid-morning, like a spirit that had crossed over to the other side. Gerard felt as if she were speaking to him, but for the first time, he couldn't discern what she was saying.

It terrified him.

.

Frank arrived at his old house, his fury guiding him like an outcasted saint, as he slammed the van door shut. He felt like he was being pulled by something deep in his stomach, like an anchor lodged in his guts, his anger the waves above, dragging him across the sea floor. Frank went to the back of the van, realizing he needed a weapon, the back was full of band equipment, strewn out across the floor. There wasn't much, Frank's eyes landed on a bass guitar and he squeezed his eyes shut, saying sorry to Mikey in his mind, before grabbing it from its case. Its sleek black body was a shadow in the luminous daylight.

Frank swung the instrument over his shoulder, and returned his march towards the house. It was surrounded by bright yellow police tape, that reminded Frank of poisonus stripes on a snake. The ground was brittle from the sudden chill and crunched beneath Frank's boots, as he approached the door step. He peered inside, and saw that all the lights were off, there was no sign of life, except for a peculiar noise that sounded like a record that Frank's mom used to play, the music could be heard from out on the porch steps. It made Frank's chest tighten.

Frank had no patience for waiting for someone to answer the door, when he knew they wouldn't anyways. He kicked the door down, effortlessly. "I am home!" He called, sarcastically. There was no reply as he made his way in, "Hide and seek was always my least favorite game to play, dad." Frank mused, as he walked down the hall. The music continued to drawl, the voice that echoed from the record player sounding all too cheery for the situation, like swing music that would be played in a hospital back in the 1940's, while death clung close to the air like a lover. Although it was the middle of a sunny afternoon, the house was dim, ghostly lighting bounced off the furniture and made the house feel as if it were smuggling more secrets than cities at 4 a.m. 

Frank went out to the backyard, it was snowing again and the cold bit at his cheeks. He could see his own breath suspended in the air in front of him, like fog. His eyes wandered to the old shed, it stood in the very back of the yard, and Frank remembered how his dad stored his hunting rifles in there because his mother never let him keep them in the house. A bad idea crept into Frank's brain like a parasite, as he moved towards the shed. He opened the wooden doors, they let out a foreboding creak. Dust spilled out from the small space, cobwebs hung in every corner. Black widows and brown recluses scrambled back to the corners of their webs, their slender bodies dangling in the light. Moths fluttered around the one small light in the center. Frank felt his heart sink when he discovered that all of the old guns had been taken, he stepped further into the shed, pushing a silvery web away, the arachnid owner falling to the floor beside his shoe. Frank didn't notice, he let out a grunt, "Finally decided to go on that weekend hunting trip, huh, old man?" 

His father had talked about going on a trip to the woods with Frank since he was 8, he said that he wanted to make a man out of him. But the guns had remained in the shed like artifacts from a museum. Frank admitted he preferred them that way, until today. He cursed, about to exit, when a soft caw made him turn his head to the side. There was a small shelf to his right, at the very top, sat a crow. It's silky black wings looked almost debonair, like a man suited for a funeral. It was perched atop a small cloth, Frank raised an eyebrow, if the past several months had taught him anything, it would be to listen to the crows. "What do you have for me?" Frank asked, politely.

The crow cawed again, before flying off. Frank didn't even flinch, as he kept his eyes on the cloth, as if scared it might disappear into thin air if he took his eyes off of it. He removed it, and to his delight, saw that it had been hiding a small hand gun. Frank smiled menacingly, taking the gun, "Me and you are gonna have fun together." He laughed, gleefully, before tucking it into his jacket's pocket. 

Just then, Frank heard a car door slamming shut. He quickly raced out of the shed, slamming the doors behind him, picking up Mikey's bass, as he sped back to the house. Gerard beat him to the backdoor, as he slid it open and fixed Frank with a relieved look, "You're so lucky you're already dead, because if you ever scare me like that again, I'll kill you." Gerard scowled, his eyes landed on the bass Frank was holding, and he let out a slow, nervous laugh, "Please don't tell me you were gonna use that as a murder weapon." He said, pointing at it with a raised eyebrow. "Mikey is gonna kill you."

Frank gave him a twisted grin, he was only standing a little bit away now, Gerard had snowflakes that were speckling his cheeks and his eyelashes like forgotten wishes made in the summer off of dandelion seeds, that had never been granted, and had turned into snow. He looked pale and breath taking, like a ghost. Frank laughed at him, "You got to admit that it's stylish, and definitely makes for an interesting story." 

"You're demented!" Gerard exclaimed, his eyebrows practically raising to his hairline. 

"Imagine showing up in hell and saying you got murdered by some bass wielding zombie! That definitely would get you some demon points!" Frank was giggling, watching as Gerard rolled his eyes at him as he spoke.

"I don't think that's how it works." Gerard groaned, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. He frowned, more seriously at Frank, "Did you find what you were looking for?" He asked, a familiar concern edged into his words.

Frank felt the weight of the gun in his pocket, and cleared his throat, "No... he isn't here." He replied.

Gerard nodded, as if he suspected as much. He let out a heavy sigh through his nose, "Lets go back to the car... it has heating." He said as he stuffed his hands back into his pockets.

Frank couldn't feel the cold, but followed after Gerard anyways, leaving his secrets behind in the now empty space of the shed, Frank couldn't help but feel as if it were watching him as he closed the backdoor behind him.

.

As they drove, a heavy silence fell between the two of them, Gerard felt like they were two crows sitting on a power line, both with secrets that filled the air around them with electricity. Frank finally said, "She loved me." He sounded distant as he said it, "When I died... I saw her. I think I've known she was dead for awhile, she was cooking and singing like she always did." When Gerard looked over at Frank, tears were spilling down his face, he wiped them away onto his shirt sleeve, and sniffed loudly. "Gerard, I should have been looking for her, I should have saved her."

"You couldn't have done anything, Frankie." Gerard replied quickly, his chest ached as he watched Frank, who was on another side of sorrow that Gerard couldn't reach. In that moment, Gerard knew he would trade all of his beautiful things, just to make Frank feel whole again. 

"I want to hurt him. Badly." Frank finally spat out, his eyes like burning coals. Gerard was watching the road as he said it, they were driving through a heavily wooded road, the trees hanging over them like a canopy, occasionally, Gerard saw deer watching them through the trees, their stares holding something that felt closer to spiritual than vacant. "I want to take from him what he took from me." Frank continued, "Until he has nothing left."

"Violence isn't the answer-" Gerard began, helplessly.

"Then tell me what is! Because I don't know what to do anymore, Gerard! All I ever do is hurt and mourn people, and it's all his fault! Tell me what the fucking answer is, because I am sick of hurting like this!" Frank cried out, and he was sobbing again, his face flushed red with anger. He looked so small in that moment, his pain plain to see all over his face like an open wound, Gerard felt his heart shift and he knew, then and there, that he was going to regret his next words, but he said them anyways.

"Fine." Gerard finally agreed. Frank looked over at him confused, and so Gerard repeated himself, "Fine! I'll help you."

Frank's eyes had gone as wide as the moon, "Excuse me, you'll fucking what?!" He asked, his mouth hanging open as if he had just seen Jesus descending from the heavens.

"Where you go, I go, remember?" Gerard said, looking over at Frank with a devious smirk. Frank was watching him, still unsure of how serious he was being. Gerard was still watching him, snickering at Frank's astonishment, when a loud bang startled the both of them. They both turned to see dark smoke pouring from the hood of the car, Gerard turned to Frank his face draining of color, as he shouted, "Run!" 

Gerard had opened his car door, his limbs feeling like jello from adrenaline as he scrambled out of the vehicle, looking behind him to see if Frank had followed, when another loud bang sounded from the engine, and then, it exploded.

The force knocked Gerard from his feet, heat burned at his face, as glass and other shrapnel went flying from the car, Gerard could feel debris cutting his hands as he covered his face in a desperate attempt to protect himself from the blast. Gerard felt smoke burn the inside of his throat and lungs, and started to cough, taking shallow breaths in, sputtering as he did, "Frank?!" He called out. He looked back up, just in time to see Frank emerge from one of the bushes at the other side of the road, his hair standing on end, and dirt covering his cheeks, a shocked and dazed expression framed on his face. "I think we're gonna need to call a taxi." Frank stated, dumbly.

Gerard was about to respond, when their attention was caught by a crow, that had landed on the remains of the car, the fire catching its wings like oil, as its feathers melted from its body, its calls dissolving into screams, that sounded all too much like a woman's, until the flames consumed it whole, like a starving animal, ravenous for more blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM ALMOST FINISHED WITH THIS FIC AND I AM CRYING BECAUSE I DON'T WANT IT TO BE OVER
> 
> For the next one, I wanna write about either the boys are in a cult, or Gerard is a priest and Frank is possessed. All very interesting and spooky concepts.
> 
> OR GERARD IS A LOCAL WITCH, AND FRANK IS CURSED AND IS TRYING TO GET A SPELL TAKEN OFF OF HIM.
> 
> IDK!!! Anyways... Shit gets rough these next chapters, SO BE PREPARED!!!


	32. Hunting Trip

Mikey was waiting for Gerard and Frank, when they showed up hours later, looking as if they had just escaped the 7th circle of hell. They had arrived on foot, lumbering up the pathway to the lighthouse, with their arms around eachother's shoulders. Mikey jumped up from where he was sitting next to Ray on the porch, shaking Ray who had started to doze off and had been quietly snoring into his palm. Ray jolted awake, "What is it?!"

"They're back!" Mikey yelled, and took off down the path to meet the other two.

"Where is my van, Frank?!" Mikey heard Ray calling out in agitation from the porch. Mikey could see a grimace cross both Gerard and Frank's faces. 

Mikey was staring wide eyed at his brother, his cheeks were covered in dirt, and his silver hair was a muddied grey that stuck up in every single direction possible, his eyes looked as if they had seen a warzone. Gerard untangled himself from Frank, and as if reading Mikey's mind, replied reassuringly, "We're both okay, just shaken up."

Frank scowled, "Yeah, but the van isn't." He said, under his breath, "Or that fucking crow." Just as Ray came jogging up to them.

"You guys look terrible." Ray stated, worried eyes trailing up and down the two of them. He looked as if wanted to say something more, but the words failed him, as his eyes came to rest on the darkened bruise on Frank's forehead, Ray sealed his mouth shut. As they sat there in a silence, Mikey felt a terrible fear growing in his head like how nightfall sits on a dying man's chest, as he looked at the two of them, he wondered, had Frank done what he set out to? Or had Gerard stopped him? Images of the news headlines flashed behind Mikey's eyes, and suddenly the whole town seemed like it had the shadow of the reaper hanging over it.

Frank saw Mikey's discomfort, he shook his head slowly, and looked up at the sun as if trying to blind himself from the truth of that afternoon, as he stuffed his hands into his jacket's pocket, "My dad wasn't home."

"Oh, thank god." Mikey and Ray both let out sighs of relief. 

Frank looked distant, Gerard was looking at Frank with an expression that suggested the two of them knew something that they weren't letting on. It burned Mikey's skin, to know that Gerard could possibly be hiding something from him. The sun was starting to set, the world around them suddenly transformed into nothing but blue shadows and escaped golden sunlight peaking through the trees, it had been a long day, Mikey thought. 

Ray cleared his throat, trying to clear the heaviness that never seemed to leave them these days, "Frank, they're holding a vigil for your mom in the park -"

"I don't want to go." Frank replied, quietly. Surprise was echoed on all of their faces, even Gerard looked shocked. "I won't find what I need there, what I need is hiding from me." Frank continued, sounding as if he were mumbling a half forgotten conversation he had had between God, and himself. 

"What you need is a shower and some rest." Ray cut in, crossing his arms over his chest.

Frank looked up at him with a funny expression, and when he turned to see Gerard, Gerard had looked away, towards the sun that was crawling its way back to bed, leaving the world in darkness.

.

"He's still missing-" Gerard called into the room, frowning down at the newspaper he was holding in his hands, not paying attention to the strings that Frank had manically put up the night before. He walked straight into one that had been connecting one article about gun shots heard coming from the eastern part of town, to an old man who claimed he had seen Frank's dad at a grocery store on the Eastern side. The red string caught around Gerard's neck, and the papers and Gerard himself, all went flying forwards. Frank, who had been up on the roof and had heard the loud thud, slipped in through the open window, being dead sort of eliminated his fear of heights, much to everyone else's dismay. 

He stared down at Gerard who was in a heap on the floor, his limbs that were cloaked in all black, spilled out on like a shadow. Gerard groaned, sitting up and massaging his forehead, that he had somehow managed to hit on the way down. A small red bump was forming right above his left eye. Frank snickered a little, but placed his cold as ice hands to the spot, trying to ease the pain. Gerard sucked in a breath, before relaxing. "You should watch where you're going. What if you had fallen on your neck? You would've ended up like me!" Frank teased, making a slicing motion across his own throat.

Gerard glared at him, but didn't try to push Frank away, their heads were close together, some of Frank's dark hair falling against Gerard's forehead. "What's with all of this? Are you a conspiracy theorist now? Next you're gonna tell me aliens abducted your dad."

Frank wrinkled his nose, looking up at the strings all around him, as if just now noticing them, "Do you think that is a possibility?" He asked.

That time, Gerard did push Frank away, letting out a laugh of disbelief, "Oh my god, you've fucking lost it. You're actually bat shit crazy now!" Gerard got up from the ground, scooping up the newspaper he had been holding, he pressed it into Frank's chest as Frank got to his feet. Frank stared down at it, a puzzled expression furrowing his eyebrows.

"We haven't had a new headline to go off of in a week, I thought they had gotten bored with the case." Frank said, bitterly. He leafed through the pages, until he came upon the article that claimed black dogs had been going missing, only to be found by animal control in the woods at the edge of town, all as if they were waiting for something or someone.

"It isn't about the case, but it's strange." Gerard replied, searching Frank's face for a reaction.

Frank was still frowning, as he sat the paper down. He let out a sigh, saying, "Maybe we're chasing a ghost." He looked up at Gerard, with a defeated expression twisted into his lips. 

Gerard shook his head, "We'll find him. It's only a matter of time." The words felt more like a forgotten dream than a promise, but Frank nodded anyways, as if he believed Gerard.

The past few weeks had been spent up in the attic room, the one Gerard had used to keep all his paintings in, and then for the lab that Frank had been reborn in, and now, they were using it to organize information, to try and find where Frank's dad had gone to. The only thing though, was Frank was right, it seemed as if his dad had simply vanished, like an apparition, all traces of him had disappeared, into thin air.

.

Mikey had noticed a shift in his brother's behavior. He talked less, and when he did join conversations, he'd drift off into space, leaving the ends of his sentences hanging like the edges of a cliff. When Mikey had confronted him about it, one evening, while he was playing bass and Gerard was scribbling doodles idly into the margin of his notebook, Gerard looked so deeply troubled that it struck fear into Mikey's heart, like the chime of 3 a.m. on a grandfather clock. It wasn't like Gerard to keep things from Mikey, they were a duo, a team, Mikey felt isolated from many things but never his brother.

A few weeks had passed since the death of Frank's mother, and Gerard spent more and more time hiding away from Ray and Mikey. The only person Mikey saw less than Gerard was Frank, who hadn't emerged from the attic room for weeks. Mikey, before he fell asleep, would hear murmuring coming from the upstairs room. The voices creeped into his skull, and planted seeds of bitterness and suspicion that grew like weeds.

The only thing stranger than Gerard was the photograph of the woman he had taken a month ago, Mikey had pinned it to the wall above his bed. She stared back at him, eyes dark like ink, they drew Mikey into whatever mystery she was hiding. Mikey was starting to get the feeling that he knew her, but every time he tried to remember, he felt as if he were trying to grasp the concepts of a faded nightmare, the only trace that was left behind, was an unsettling feeling of knowing that he knew the ending to something he shouldn't.

.

They had another gig at the House Of Wolves. Ramona had called Gerard and begged them to play, people couldn't stop talking about them since the last show. Gerard had been hesitant at first, he hadn't even left the house except to get groceries, since he had left Frank's old house. Although, when Ray had overheard the conversation, before Gerard could say "no", he grabbed the receiver and had gleefully agreed. He had said, "We'd love to! We need to get out of this old light house." As he said the last part, he threw a glare over his shoulder at Gerard, that was as sharp as a dagger. Gerard realized there was no point in trying to argue.

So, that was how he found himself standing in a bathroom with glowing green lighting, applying makeup amongst the bathroom stalls that had all been scribbled on in pen. God-awful band names tagged the walls, along with poetry that felt like it was caught out of the air, like radiowaves. Gerard traced a heart that said "Headaches are from God, call 1-800-987-7368" and wondered what on Earth it meant. Suddenly, the door swung open and Gerard spun around and saw Frank, his frankenstein mask plastered to his face.

"Well, don't you look pretty." Gerard couldn't see it, but knew Frank was smirking underneath his mask. "Can you believe this shit?! Ray is a dick for making us do this."

"You love performing." Gerard pointed out, Frank walked forward until he was pressing his face into Gerard's shoulder, Gerard wrapped his arms around him and placed his chin on Frank's head. He tried not to gasp at the sudden chill that fell over him, when Frank was near.

"I am just not ready. I am still mourning." Frank groaned, pitifully into Gerard's shirt.

"If you keep saying that, you'll never heal." Gerard replied, gently.

"I am dead, I don't heal, I decay." Frank laughed into Gerard's shirt, but it wasn't as light-hearted as he tried to make it sound. Gerard opened his mouth to respond but before he could, there was the sound of people yelling outside. Suddenly, Ray threw the door open, with a wide grin stuck to his face.

"It's Showtime." He smiled, like Cinderella, easy and so, so, so shiney. Like a glass slipper.

.

The show went well, Gerard felt the familiar electricity coursing through his veins. The same hell fire danced on his tongue as he sang, the band was as sporatic and dizzying as ever. Gerard smiled to himself, at the messiness of their show, and of the audience, punk rock felt a lot like sloppy kisses in alleyways, like kids that wore dirtied dresses to church, and combat boots with wildflowers tucked into them, cigarettes dangling from their teeth like a punchline. Gerard loved it. He was smiling as Ray shredded through a solo, dancing manically, as if his life depended on it. When suddenly, Gerard felt as if the entire room shifted.

He stumbled, and Ray looked up at him through his curly hair, his usual grin swapped for a concerned frown. Gerard shook himself out of it, but the music sounded distorted, as if it were happening in another room. He opened his mouth to sing, "We're damned afterall -" he got out, before his words turned into screams. He stopped, wide eyed, looking out at the audience, he realized everyone had stopped jumping, they were all still as statues in a stone garden. The lights had all turned off except for the spotlight, which was too bright and blinding, it stained Gerard's vision with spots. The spots were all blue and red, like police lights. Gerard started to hyperventilate, he looked towards Frank, the band had stopped playing, all of them had the same vacant expression as the audience.

Then, Gerard felt something pierce his side. For a second, he thought he had split his stitches, but they were mostly healed. He looked down at his shirt, and saw blood spreading across the dark cloth. "Help..." He said, faintly. He looked up, and all of the lights had turned red and blue, flashing frantically, until all Gerard could make sense of was the pain and the lights, and how he felt like he was being pushed out of his body. "Help me!" He screamed, his voice piercing the air. Sirens joined into the chorus of catastrophe, as Gerard shrieked, the pain grew more severe, until,

BANG!

Gerard opened his eyes, the band was back, guitars winding down to the end of the song. Gerard was standing still in the middle of the stage, and Frank had rushed over to him, his eyes full of worry as he gripped Gerard's shoulders tight, and was saying, "Hey, what is it? What happened? Are you alright?" 

Gerard stared back at him, blinking quickly, trying to make sense of him. Everything was far too real, it felt like he had fallen and scraped his palms on reality. "I am okay." He lied.

"Come on, you can't perform like this." Frank continued, he tugged on Gerard's arm, trying to escort him off the stage. Gerard could hear the crowd murmuring, anxiously. "Gerard, lets go." Frank started again, firmly. 

Gerard shook his head, quickly, "I am fucking fine, let me go." He came off more cruel than he intended, he could see that his words embedded themselves into Frank like knives, Frank released him, and sulked off to his side of the stage. Gerard looked over at Mikey and Ray, who both looked concerned, and he scowled, and raised the mic to his lips, "I am gonna need you all to do me a favor" he growled, he pointed a finger gun at the audience, as if lining them up in his sight to take aim, as he screamed, "I need you to fucking dance!"

The song started, as he pulled the trigger.

.

After the show, they were loading equipment into a van they had borrowed from Bob's uncle. The whole time Ray was grumbling about mysterious engine fires, and how the next time anyone tries to take his car, they're gonna lose a limb, or possibly a dick. Gerard had been staring off into space, seeming almost paranoid of something, he hadn't spoken a word since the end of the show. 

"Hey! Let me help you guys with some of that!" Called out a familiar voice. They all looked up, and saw Brian, wearing an oversized jacket, approaching them. He had a small smirk on his face that made Frank's guts twist themselves into knots. 

Ray immediately stepped between the two, but kept a pleasant smile on his face, "Oh hey! It's been a minute, how have you been?"

Brian looked over at Frank, who was pointedly looking down at the ground. Brian sighed, "I've been shitty to tell you the truth..." There was an awkward quiet that hung in the air after he said it, he groaned, "Listen, I came here to apologize. I was a total ass, and while I don't think I deserved to get my face bashed in... I can't blame you for it."

"I almost fucking killed you, dude. Don't be stupid, I am the one who should be sorry!" Frank replied, his head snapping up, looking incredulous. Guilt pooled in his chest like a weight. 

Brian shrugged, "I told you that you were an abomination to God, I think we both were pretty terrible." 

Frank was opening his mouth to argue once more, but Mikey covered his face with his hand, rolling his eyes as he said, "We get it, you're both assholes. Can you help me load the drums into the back, now?"

Brian was snickering, and Gerard was doing a poor job of hiding his a small smirk. Frank relaxed a little. "I heard about your dad." Brian continued.

"Brian, please -" Ray cut in, giving him a dangerous glare.

"He's gone missing right?" Brian pushed, ignoring Ray. Frank felt as if someone had sucker punched him, if his heart was beating, it would have bursted from his chest just then.

"Yes. Why does it matter to you?" Frank asked, trying to keep his calm. He dug his nails into his palms until they left small cresent moon marks in his skin.

"Because I think I know where he is." The whole group all shouted exclamations at Brian, and he cringed a little, before saying, "One of my friends at Macky's said they saw him heading into the woods a few weeks ago. He took a camper and everything, it looked like he was gonna be staying out there for awhile, I thought you should know."

"You didn't think to tell me this sooner?!" Frank exclaimed, smacking his palm to his forehead in disbelief, "Fucking hell..."

He thought back to the guns in the shed, how they were all missing when he had gone to take one. It made sense now, Frank's dad, after all these years, had gone hunting.

Frank decided it was time he did, too.


	33. All The Angels

Frank had grown eerily quiet after learning about the whereabouts of his dad. As Ray drove home, they had ran out of gas, they stopped by a nearly abandoned gas station on the side of the road, moths fluttered manically around the too-bright fluorescent lights, the green and orange paint on the building and signs were all peeling in places. Bob got out to go pay for the gas, the wind snatching at his jacket, when he got back, Ray motioned for him to come over. Bob wore his usual frown, as Ray said, "I need you to make sure Frank doesn't leave the light house tonight."

Bob grumbled, "Why should we care?"

The gas pump dinged, and Ray removed it from the open hatch in the car, placing it back in its holder as he said, "Because he might end up doing something he'll regret."

Bob shifted a little, but nodded. Ray felt a knot in his stomach ease, but still couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to spiral out of his control.

.

Frank had decided right after Brian had told him where his dad was, that he could waste no more time, and that that night would have to be the night he set out to find his dad. It was late, frost was clinging to the windowsill like intricate patterns of lace, Gerard was sleeping soundly next to Frank. 

Before Gerard had gone to bed, as if he was able to read Frank's mind, had asked, "Do you want me to stay up with you?" An edge of worry creeping into his tone.

Frank had shook his head, remembering the episode Gerard had had during the concert, how he looked so drained afterwards, even then, Frank noticed that in the yellow lamp-light, Gerard's cheeks were missing their usual blush, dark circles framed the two black pools of his eyes, "You need your rest, you've had a long day." Frank said, trying to sound gentle.

Gerard still looked unsure, "Frank, I don't want to leave you alone tonight." 

Frank softened, "I'll be right here, I am not going anywhere." Gerard had sighed, not necessarily believing him, but definitely not wanting to argue. He was tired, his form looked like a gossamer vision in moonlight, smudged around the edges like a charcoal drawing. He hadn't said much more, but before he fell asleep, he had wrapped himself around Frank, the same way the moon curves itself around the sun during an eclipse.

As Frank got out of bed, careful not to wake Gerard, he felt like a traitor. Something in his chest told him to go back to sleep, to lay back down and forget all of his fantasies about revenge. That it would be easier to just let go of the past, to unhook the claws that his demons had dug so deeply into his skin, to just move on. When he looked down at Gerard, he almost looked like a remedy to the heartache Frank had always felt. 

But then, his mind wandered back to the news reporter, and to images of his mom on Sunday mornings always looking like she had stolen the sun right out of the sky, and how his dad had taken that from him too. 

Frank set his jaw, deciding that even Gerard couldn't talk him out of this one. He grabbed a backpack from the closet and began to pack, his feet ice cold from the chill floor beneath him, he was shoving everything from hammers to scissors to knives to guns into the pack, the entire time as he worked, he didn't notice the feeling of a pair of eyes watching him from the bed, following his every move. 

Not until Gerard, who had been awake since he felt a shift in the mattress beside him, had spoken up and said, "Are you sure you don't want the stale box of twinkies Ray keeps in the top shelf in the kitchen? I am sure if you hit someone in the head with those hard enough, you could cause some internal bleeding."

Frank yelped, nearly dropping the butcher knife he was holding. He stared at Gerard, in shock, "You're awake?"

"I am a light-sleeper these days." Gerard replied with a shrug, he pushed himself up out of bed, his eyes full of a never-ending sorrow for a second as he looked down at the backpack at Frank's feet. He let out a heavy sigh, that reminded Frank of the way the wind blows through the trees during a burial. "You were gonna leave without me?" 

"You're safer if you stay here." Frank responded, firmly.

"Bullshit. I am going with you." Gerard bit back, walking over to the closet, and pulling a long dark black coat over his shoulders, the same one he had given to Frank the day they had met, and then slipped into a pair of black pants. 

"No, if something happens to you, I'd lose my mind, this isn't safe -" Frank started, but stopped when he saw Gerard looking at him, his eyes glinting in the dark light, almost as if he knew something that Frank didn't. Frank wondered what he had seen earlier onstage, how it looked as if he had seen the reaper creeping in the corner of his eye, like a snake hanging from a tree. 

Gerard pulled open a drawer and took something out from it, his back turned to Frank, as he slid it into his coat pocket. Frank watched with a perplexed expression on his face, Gerard turned back to him, looking more grim than he had a moment before, "You either do this with me or not at all."

"How will you stop me?" Frank scowled.

"Easy. I'll just go wake up Ray, and he'll get Bob to stop you." Gerard grinned wickedly, his canines showing through his lips.

Frank groaned, tilting his head up towards the ceiling almost as if he were praying to a saint, he pinched the bridge of his nose, "My plan of sneaking out the window obviously won't work, you'd end up on the ground, flattened like a pancake."

"Definitely a downside of being mortal." Gerard remarked, nodding his head very seriously. Frank looked up at him, giving him a black look. Gerard bit back a smile, his eyes creasing with amusement.

"We'll just have to sneak out the front door." Frank stated, as it were obvious.

"But Bob is downstairs, Ray has him guarding it." Gerard started, sounding genuinely concerned.

Frank nodded, knowingly, "Hopefully he'll stay out of the way."

"Or what?" Gerard asked, nervously.

"Or I'll make him." Frank replied, under his breath.

.

The house was dark, a cloud embankment hid the moon, encasing the world below in a velvet night. The sky was aglow, city lights bouncing off the clouds and turning them almost pink, the way the sky can only look during chill nights, where it looks as if the world never really went to sleep. Frank could barely see his hands out in front of him, as they crept down the halls, the old wood moaning like ghosts beneath their feet. Frank cringed as he stepped on a floorboard and the sound seemed to echo down the hall. 

Downstairs, Frank could hear the crackle of T.V. static, Bob must have fallen asleep and left it on. Frank tried to push down his excitement, as he realized that escape might be easier than he expected. They made their way down the stairs, and sure enough, the television set was left on, blueish light falling onto the floor in puddles, casting long shadows of the furniture against the black walls. Frank turned to Gerard, and whispered, "Where is he?"

Gerard had a deep frown set into his face, he shrugged, not having anymore clue than Frank. They stayed close to the walls, their forms like shadows, as they made their way towards the door. Frank didn't know why, but his heart was hammering in his chest, even though his brain knew things were going to be okay. It was just Bob.

Frank had his hand on the doorknob, he twisted it, the lock clicking, but the door didn't budge. Frank looked over at Gerard, confused. Gerard looked just as surprised as Frank, his eyes relaxed into realization as he pointed up at a spot above Frank's head. There was a padlock on the door.

"I installed it myself, Ray asked me to." Bob remarked, making the two of them jump. Bob was standing in the light of the T.V., his form turned to a silhouette, Frank couldn't help but remember his dad all those months ago framed by the fridge light, his heart sunk, and suddenly fear gripped him, making his knees shake.

"Ray can't keep us here, it isn't his choice to make!" Gerard bit back, his jaw set.

"You two are acting like dumbasses, you know how much trouble you could get in?! Leave it be, it's over! Hurting him, won't bring Frank's mom back." Bob scowled, agitation plain to see on his face.

"You better shut your mouth, you fuck." Frank spat, feeling like gasoline about to be thrown onto a fire.

Bob wasn't stupid, he could recognize the anger brewing in Frank like a ticking time bomb, he reached back and revealed he was holding a crow bar in his opposite hand. Gerard's eyes widened, as he pointed at the weapon and exclaimed, "You're fucking crazy, put that shit back!" When Bob didn't throw it away, Gerard lunged towards him, pushing Bob back into the wall. "Frank, go!" Gerard called out. 

It happened so quickly, Bob, using little effort, pushed Gerard off him as if he were nothing more than a doll, then, when Gerard started towards him again, brought the crowbar hard against Gerard's knee. Gerard crumpled to the ground, and Frank could see he was biting his tongue, trying so hard not to let out a scream that would surely wake up the rest of the house. Frank had Bob in a choke hold before he really knew what was happening, Bob tried to pull him off, but Frank's grip only tightened. He let out a choked sound, a wheeze escaping his mouth in a shaky breath, Frank could feel him growing weak in his arms -

Gerard pulled Frank off, Bob collapsed to the ground, still breathing in shallow breaths, his body going limp. Frank looked up at Gerard, his eyes wide and manic, Gerard shook his head quickly, pain still present in the way he was biting his lip. He pushed Frank towards the kitchen, and then limped towards a closet, that Frank thought was only used for storage. When Gerard opened it, he pulled on a string and the small room was illuminated with an orange glow, Frank could now see that it wasn't storage afterall, but had a set of stairs that descended down into a pitch black dark, that seemed to swallow all light that touched it, like a black hole.

"What is this?" Frank finally asked, keeping his voice low.

"The cellar." Gerard replied, his jaw was tightening as he tried to bite down on the pain.

"Shit, is your leg okay?" Frank bent down, and started to worry over him, Gerard pushed his hand away.

"You almost fucking killed him." Gerard snarled, his eyes bright with a burning sort of rage.

"He hurt you!" Frank exclaimed, but looked down at the floor in shame, he knew Gerard was right.

"Yeah, but I'll live. No more of that shit, please. It stresses me out!" Gerard growled, then added under his breath, "After tonight we'll already have enough blood on our hands..."

Frank's gut twisted, he looked back down at the growing gloom that was spilling from the cellar. He turned to Gerard, and raised an eyebrow, "After you?" He suggested, motioning for Gerard to step forward.

"You're such a gentleman, Frank." Gerard replied, snarkily, as he stepped forward, into the living darkness.

.

They made it out of the cellar with only a few spiderwebs caught in their hair, Gerard ran a hand through Frank's black tangles, lovingly, as they exited, the wind immediately tried to snatch them away. It felt as if it had traveled thousands of miles across the sea to blow against them, like a never ending train, as it dug itself deep into Frank's bones. He shivered, and followed after Gerard. They started the car, and pulled away from the light house, leaving its tall looming figure, standing like a sentry. Frank got the eerie feeling that it was watching them, as they took off, into the night. Like bats, leaving their trees, scuttling across the sky, looking for food. 

.

They arrived at the edge of the woods sooner than Gerard would've liked. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly, he stopped the car, and turned the keys so that the engine shut off. They parked there, a few yards away from them, there was the cemetery that Frank had been "buried" in, the sight of it made Gerard nauseous. The trees infront of them were menacing, standing forebodingly like giants, telling them to turn back.

Frank turned to Gerard, his lip ring glinted in the light, "You can leave me here, and go home." He almost sounded hopeful that Gerard would take him up on that offer.

Gerard swallowed his own fear, it tasted metallic and almost electric on his tongue, as he replied, "We leave together or not at all." 

Frank's mouth settled into a grim line, he nodded woodenly, and they both got out of the car, grabbed the backpack full of weapons from the trunk, before slamming it shut and starting their walk, into the woods.

.

The woods were alive, Gerard was sure of it. As he followed Frank through the heavy foliage, they came across things that only came out to play under the heavy cover of night. Crows cawed to each other, up above, along with low owl hoots. Coyotes cackled hysterically, their laughter echoing off of every tree. At some point they walked upon a stream, where a king deer was drinking from the clear water, its antlers were bigger than Frank. They both stopped dead in their tracks, Gerard's breath had been stolen from his lungs, as he struggled to comprehend the creature in front of them. It regarded them for a few moments, Gerard was sure he could see something intelligent hiding behind its eyes, before the deer turned and walked back into the shadows from which it came.

Neither of them spoke about it, they stayed silent, the only noise they made was the sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet, it was almost as if they were both scared they'd wake something if they spoke. It felt as if the ground were ancient, like ley lines were connected beneath their feet, Gerard was sure he could hear whispers from thousands of years ago, spilling from the trees. He longed to press his ear up against one's bark, to listen and learn the secrets of the universe, but they trekked on. There was no time for stopping.

Branches hung in their faces and scratched at their cheeks, leaving behind ruby red lines. Spider webs twinkled with dew in the light of Frank's flashlight, and sent shivers running up and down Gerard's spine. Gerard looked over to his right, feeling as if something was watching them, the foliage was starting to lessen, the terrain turning more rocky. The stones around them were cool, and moss grew over their grey figures like blankets, Gerard was searching for whatever belonged to the ever-present sensation of eyes staring daggers into his back. For a moment, he was sure he saw something looking back at him, a golden glow caught for a moment, holding him in a trance, before they vanished. Gerard was frozen in his tracks, only stirred back to life by Frank, who called to him from a few feet away, he had moved back a low hanging cluster of branches that were hiding a small entrance to what looked like a valley down below. Gerard walked over to join him, Frank was pointing down at a small cabin situated in the very base of the two slopes, it looked abandoned. No signs of life were evident, no lights or smoke pouring from the chimney, the only clue to anyone being there was a red truck parked beside it. 

Gerard raised an eyebrow, "Is that the cabin?"

"Yes, grab your weapon." Frank replied and then swung his backpack off his shoulder, unzipping it and allowing Gerard to pull a long slender knife from it. "We gotta be prepared, the devil is inside." Frank finished, taking a hammer from the pack, and then pulling the bag back around his shoulders. They made their way down in a buzzingly anxious quiet, the knife felt foreign in Gerard's hands. The tighter he gripped the handle, the more he became aware of the gun hiding in his coat pocket that he had grabbed from his drawer, like a secret, he intended to keep.

.

The house was no more friendlier up close than it had been from far away. Frank grabbed a clothes pin from his bag, and started to work on the lock of the door, Gerard shifted uncomfortably. His knee hurt from where Bob had hit him, it pulsed dully, Gerard had to admit that he was sort of grateful for the distraction. Frank had been messing with the lock for about 5 minutes, cursing every now and then, before it finally clicked. Gerard tried to ignore the feeling in his gut that was telling him to bolt, to run as far away from that house as possible, he willed himself to stay still.

Frank, reached to open the door, but Gerard caught him by the shoulder. "Do you have a plan?" He hissed.

Frank gave him a funny look, before saying, "I feel like I am better at winging things, everything will sort itself out. It usually does."

Gerard let out a slow breath through his nose, trying desperately to keep his cool, "One wrong move and we're both in jail or worse, lets take a minute before we charge right in there."

Frank bit his lower lip, contemplative, looking back at the door, and then at Gerard before saying, "Fine, I'll go in and scope it out, and then I'll come back here when the coast is clear. Sound good?" Frank explained, Gerard took his hand off of his shoulder and groaned.

"Sounds terrible, but okay. I'll wait here."

Frank nodded in agreement, before turning and disappearing into the cabin. Leaving Gerard out on the back porch with only his constant feeling of being watched for company.

.

The air inside of the cabin was stale, it smelled of beer and gunpowder. Frank felt a familiar fear grip him, he recognized the smell all too well. The room was pitch black, Frank could barely make out the outlines of furniture. His eyes started to adjust to the dark, and what he saw, was bizarre, all of the couches were positioned in a way, so they were barricading a door, Frank moved them aside, cringing when they scraped against the floor. He waited, pausing to hear if there was any movement coming from the room. The house was as quiet and still as a dead mouse.

He carefully opened the door, and slipped into the room, without a sound. This room was much darker than the other, but Frank could hear the faint sound of breathing, coming in heavy rasps, like a man on his deathbed. Frank heard the sound of something clicking, almost as if it were a gun, being loaded. Frank stopped dead. Not daring to move a muscle. "You don't have to hide. I've been waiting for you to find me, Frank." His dad said, from the darkness.

Frank didn't answer, he could see the outline of his father sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, the barrel of the gun outlined by shadows, it made Frank's chest sink as he thought of Gerard outside, and suddenly Frank wished he had left him back at the lighthouse. He should've made Gerard stay, Frank had put him in danger, yet again. His chest flooded with guilt that was the same shade of purple as deep bruises on kneecaps.

"I know you know what I've done. That's why you're here, isn't it? Because I killed her." His dad continued, Frank felt like his whole body was crawling with insects, he fought every instinct that was telling him to tackle his father and end it right then and there, the only thing stronger than his hate was his curiosity, to hear what his mother's final moments were. 

"She threatened to leave me, and I had already lost you. She wanted to run away, to find you and go to her sister's. If you had just come back like a good son -" His dad was saying, Frank felt rage pounding in his ears, he was about to spring forward, when the sound of footsteps interrupted the scene.

Frank looked up and standing in the doorway, was Gerard, his silver hair visible in the dark light, he was squinting into the dim room, before he realized what he had walked into, his eyes grew wide like saucers. "And you brought a friend. This is the one that stole you away from me, isn't it? Then, I won't regret this at all -" his dad started, as he aimed the gun. Frank jumped on him, hitting the gun out of his hand, so that when his dad pulled the trigger the bullet went into the ceiling instead of into Gerard's chest.

Frank pinned his dad to the ground, holding his wrists down on the floor until he could feel his fingers digging into the old man's bones. Frank fought the urge to snap them, he took his dad's ring finger, where he was still wearing his wedding band, and said, "You deserve to rot in hell, all alone for the rest of fucking eternity." And then stuck his finger in his mouth, Frank bit down so hard that it came clean off. Blood squirted from the wound, his dad shrieked in agony and kicked Frank off. Frank went staggering back, blood dripped from his mouth and down his chin, and he spat it out, staining the floor boards crimson.

Gerard lunged for the gun that Frank's dad had been holding, just as the old man did, both their hands meeting on the handle, Gerard kicked him away, and his dad scrambled up his legs, pulling him down to the floor. Gerard grunted, for an old man, he was strong, Gerard kicked at him, trying to get back up. Frank started to pull at his dad, trying to get him off, he wrapped him in the same headlock that he had held Bob in earlier, only for his dad to head butt him right in the forehead, Frank let go, and his dad headed back for the gun. Gerard quickly emptied the bullets out of it, and the old man umped onto his chest, closing his fingers around Gerard's throat as he screamed, "You took my Frank away from me!" 

Gerard was struggling to breathe, trying to pry his fingers from off of him, "Frank wasn't ever your's -" Gerard choked out, "He deserved so much better than you -" Frank yanked his dad off of Gerard, and took the hammer he had been keeping in his back pocket out, raising it above his head. Gerard had stood up behind Frank, and was breathing raggedly.

"Frank, can't we work this out?" His dad said, genuine fear was flooding his eyes and filled Frank's heart with a sickening delight. "What would your mother say?"

"She'd tell me to stop, because she was good." Frank snarled, tears prickling in his eyes, "She'd tell me to be a better man than you." Thoughts of his mom flicked through his head, making his chest feel as if it were collapsing, he could barely make out his dad's blurry form through his tears.

"Yes, yes, you're right!" His dad responded, eagerly, hope hanging in the edge of his voice, like the last star in the sky, before dawn.

"But she's fucking dead, and you know what they say," Frank said, his nostrils flaring, as his face relaxed into a murdurous glare, "Like father, like son." He raised his hammer, and brought it down, just as his dad whipped out a gun he had been hiding in his pocket and fired a bullet straight into Frank's chest, it went right through him, Frank didn't even flinch. The hammer, on the other hand, buried itself into his dad's skull, the old man groaned pitifully from the floor.

"F-Frank." He sobbed, chest heaving, as his hands wrapped themselves around the hammer, blood gushed from his forehead, it had hit in the same exact spot that Ray had hit Frank in from earlier. Frank smiled at the irony of it. "What have you done to me, you bastard?" His dad moaned. "You should be dead! I shot you!"

Frank took the gun from his hand, and twirled it around his finger like a cartoon character, he aimed it at his dad's head, grinning wickedly as he said, "Can't kill what's already dead, pops." And then promptly blew his dad's brains out. The gunshot rang throughout the cabin, the silence that followed was deafening. The only sound that occupied the room was the noise of blood trickling out of his father's skull. 

Frank turned around, to see Gerard, staring in repulsion at his dad's corpse. He looked pale, as if he were going to be sick, Frank walked over to him, cupping Gerard's face in his hands, and asking, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" 

Gerard looked shaky, as he replied, "I am okay. But if we don't get out of here soon, I am gonna vomit all over your dad's body, and I don't think any of us want that." 

Frank snickered, and leaned in and placed a kiss on Gerard's cheek, smearing blood onto his pale skin. Gerard groaned, wiping at the bloodied lip print left behind, "You couldn't have waited until after you washed off the blood from your dad's finger to kiss me?" 

"It was a victory smooch, babe. I had to." Frank explained, over his shoulder, as they made their way out of the cabin, leaving the past behind to decay in that valley, the only creaures who knew the real events of that night being Frank, Gerard and the stars, weeping, above like angels.

.

The adrenaline was starting to wear off, Gerard still couldn't quite comprehend the events that had just taken place. It had all happened too quickly, his ears were still ringing from the gunshot. The journey back up the hill was exhausting, and Gerard was breathing heavier than usual, his body felt like it had been ran over several times, but it was more than that, he felt like he was fading, almost.

The first odd thing that he noticed was a dull twang of pain in his side, he didn't pay much attention to it, it had to of been a cramp or something. Frank was chattering up ahead, a complete opposite from when they first had walked through the woods, his voice however sounded distant, it bounced off of the trees and into Gerard's brain, as if he were catching frequencies from a far-off radio tower. Gerard noticed the feeling of being watched, once again, he looked up and saw crows gathered in the trees and circling in the sky above. His heart skipped a beat, he got the sudden realization that they were here for him.

But why?

Gerard's foot caught on a log, and he tripped forward, hitting the ground hard. His palms took most of the fall, but as he fell, an excruciating pain shot up from his side, Gerard cried out, making Frank snap his attention back towards him, alarm lit up on his face. "Gerard, what is it?" Frank asked, quickly, rushing to his side.

Gerard shook his head, his ears were ringing, and his vision was starting to blur. Everything felt like it was happening all at once, as if his body were being sucked through a supernova. Gerard's knees felt like they were clinking together like teacups, as he stood up, steadying himself on a nearby tree. "I just tripped... I am alright." Gerard said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew something was deeply wrong.

Frank had gone rigidly still, his expression looked horrified as he stared down at Gerard's waist. Gerard frowned, "What? What is it?" He asked, the world was starting to spin, as if he were on a carousel.

Frank let out a choked noise, as he pointed down at Gerard's shirt, Gerard looked and saw that it was soaked in blood, he wasn't sure how he didn't notice it before, it must've been the adrenaline. Now, though, a white hot pain was pulsing from it, "You've been shot." Frank cried out, and caught Gerard, as he fell forward, his eyes staring up at Frank, and then past him, up, up, up, towards the stars, past Saturn and its rings, all of the planets waving to him, as his soul felt like it was suspended on the edge of his body, and the rest of the universe.

Gerard could only make sense of one thing in that moment: he was dying.


	34. All We Are Is Bullets

Frank felt like he had swallowed the sun, as they were walking back. He couldn't stop rambling, it felt like he were all of the fireworks in a fourth of july sky, he had succeeded. They had won. Frank was giddy with joy, finally feeling satisfied. However the further they walked, Frank began to notice that Gerard had grown quieter, and Frank was starting to worry that maybe the events of that night had been too much for him, but if they were, he didn't speak up to say so. He just listened, after awhile, when Frank looked back at him, his skin had grown so pale in the moonlight, purple veins were visible under his eyes , making him look almost corpse-like. It gave Frank a bad feeling, but he brushed it off.

It wasn't until Gerard had fallen, that the air around them seemed to shift like a shockwave. The trees seemed to hunch over them like crows sitting on their shoulders, watching, waiting. Frank turned, Gerard was a messy bundle of dark clothes on the ground, his head hanging low to his chest as he clutched his side. Gerard let out a low moan of pain, and it sent shivers running down Frank's spine. Frank remembered asking what was wrong, but the words felt like someone else had spoken them as soon as they left his mouth. Gerard had sat up, and beads of sweat were gathering on his forehead like pearls.

Frank felt a phantom pain twist in his side, as he stared down at Gerard's shirt that was soaked in blood. His knees grew weak, as he stumbled towards Gerard, realizing the situation they were in. He fell to the ground, the cold, frozen Earth cutting into his knees, icy and unforgiving. Snow had started to fall, in big fat clumps, a storm that had rolled in out of nowhere. The flakes stuck to Gerard's eyelashes, as Frank gathered him up in his arms, and rested his head in his lap. Frank brushed the hair away from his eyes, Gerard was staring up at him, eyes wide and full of fear. "I am cold." He said, his voice was hollowed out and slow, like voices heard in the midst of dreams.

"You're going to be okay, I am going to get you home." Frank replied, trying to sound reassuring but he was terrified. He thought of everything that he had lost in the past year, and decided, that Gerard was not going to be taken from him too. No false gods or fate or bullets could rip his soul away from Frank's, because they were intertwined, part of the same star, Frank felt himself growing dimmer already as Gerard's spirit waned like the cresent moon hanging above them in the sky. Frank tried to push Gerard up, realizing that if he didn't get him out of the forest soon, Gerard was going to bleed out. "We have to move, Gerard, please." Frank pleaded.

Gerard's body felt like a doll's, his limbs were hanging limply, and his mouth hung open slightly, he was so light in Frank's arms, so insubstantial like how light feels when it filters through curtains, pale and dim, it terrfied Frank. When Frank tried to lift him, Gerard's mouth gasped in a quiet sob, his nails clawing into Frank's shoulders, leaving behind cresent shaped marks in Frank's skin. Frank felt his gut twist in guilt, every little movement seemed to hurt Gerard more, he desperately picked up Gerard, and carried him a few yards, a trail of blood was left behind on the ground as Frank walked. Gerard had buried his head into Frank's shoulder, and was shaking violently from the pain. Crows had gathered like spectators, clothed in their jet black feathers like mourners at a burial, all of them watching them with their beady eyes.

"Help me!" Frank shouted at them, furious suddenly at the entire world for wrapping its icy fingers around Gerard's life, like a toy maker meddling with puppets. "Save him!" He begged, but the crows had no reply. Gerard had gone still in Frank's arms, Frank's cheek was pressed against the top of his head, he was whispering softly to Gerard, as they walked, "It's okay. Stay with me. Focus on my voice, Gerard. I need you to focus." The snow was making it hard to see, and Frank realized he wasn't really sure where they were going.

"I am scared." Gerard finally said, his voice raspy. His eyelids were half closed, and his chest was rising and falling quickly, although he never seemed to take enough breath. "Frank, I am so fucking scared."

Frank stopped, the woods in front of them seemed never ending, Gerard's words stuck him like a knife to the heart. His voice was so unsure, the usual air of magic that hung on his tongue was gone, no more madness was left behind to cloak the scared little kid that sits in the heart of every human being. The dark forest that surrounded them was like the black cloth of the grim reaper's cloak, it made it clear, that in the end, everyone fears death. Frank felt himself setting Gerard down, and curling himself up beside him before he really gave it a second thought. It was too late, there was no way Frank could get him out in time, he realized, in horror. He tried to hide his fear, as he said, "I am right here, you're not going anywhere. I am here, look at me."

Gerard was staring up at Frank's face, and suddenly jerked his hand out to touch the side of his cheek, as if trying to trace constellations, "I need to get back to Mikey." Gerard said quickly, and tears sprung to his eyes, "I need to see my brother."

Frank bit his tongue as he thought about Mikey, and about if it weren't for himself, Gerard would be able to get back home to him, his voice shook as he took Gerard's hand, "I shouldn't have dragged you into this." 

Gerard's eyes softened, the fear flickering out of them for a moment, as he sighed, "Frank, this isn't your fault. I knew from the start that meeting you was my curse." Frank stiffened at the last word, but Gerard didn't stop, "I saw it... the omens... the dreams... all leading back to you, and I still ran towards you like a blind man." 

"Because you're so fucking stupid." Frank sobbed, and shook his head, not wanting to listen.

Gerard laughed a little, the snow was starting to ease up, the ground around them was dusted in snow that looked as soft as sugar, it glittered in the pale moonlight, Gerard was shivering slightly, and Frank made to take off his jacket and give it to him but Gerard pushed it away. "I knew you'd be the death of me."

"Don't fucking say that." Frank shook, the words felt like a punch to the gut. Gerard's breathing was starting to slow, even his words felt like they were forced and took more concentration to get out.

"But I wasn't alive before I met you, just a ghost. I didn't matter, I just was saving people but never myself. You saved me, Frank." Gerard whimpered from either pain or sorrow, "You're both a curse and a blessing, you were a dream and a nightmare, Frank" Gerard explained, a sad resignation blooming across his features, "This is just waking up." 

Frank was blinking back tears as Gerard suddenly grew still, the hand that Frank had been holding had gone slack, Gerard's eyes were glazed and unfocused, staring up at the moon, the pale shape reflected in his pupils like a coin in a well. Frank let out a rattled sob, "Gerard?" He called, begging every angel to just give him back, just give him back. But Gerard didn't move, Frank's chin trembled as sobs wrecked his body, he gently closed Gerard's eyes, and then let out a scream that sounded like every shattered piece of hell, that has ever been held in a suffering man's chest, finally being set free.

.

Mikey was having a nightmare. He was in a woods somewhere, he didn't know where he was, just that he hadn't ever been so cold in his life. He looked around anxiously, he had the aching feeling that he was forgetting something, as if a part of his soul was missing like a forgotten puzzle piece, although what it was, he couldn't figure out. It was snowing heavily, and Mikey's breath bloomed in front of him, he rubbed his arms to try to warm them but it was no use, he still shivered violently. He had been wandering for what felt like an eternity, every twist and fork in the road looked the same as the last. Shadows bounced off the trees, and they all looked like people Mikey knew, although he could never make out their faces.

Suddenly, he came to a clearing. He paused, the moonlight shone brightly off of the snow here, the trees stood like sentries in a perfect circle, and at the center, there was a woman. Mikey recognized her immediately, it was the lady from the photo he had taken. She turned and looked at him, a sad smile on her face. This time she didn't disappear as Mikey approached her. "It's a lonely night for a walk." She greeted him.

"You're Frank's mom." Mikey stated, a pang of sorrow rattling in his ribcage as he said it.

The woman nodded, Mikey could see the resemblance in the dark hair, and eyes, the lines around her mouth that said she had given her fair shair of wicked grins. They stood in silence for a moment, the night was quiet, too quiet, as if the world had stopped turning for a second. "Why do I keep seeing you?"

"Because you need to know that he'll be okay." She whispered, and suddenly she looked sort of like how the picture of the virgin mary looked, the one that Mikey had placed on Frank's grave in the sunflower field, young and filled with unending grief. 

"Who's going to be okay?" Mikey's voice shook, the dream was starting to fade, the moon was turning into the lamplight on the table beside his bed, and Frank's mom was nothing more than a silouhette.

"Your brother." She said, just as the dream disappeared and Mikey jolted awake, covered in cold sweat, his heart racing as if he had just ran a marathon. The room seemed to shake, as if there was a mini-Earthquake that had just struck, but it stopped as Mikey sat up in bed, he breathed heavily, as he tried to make sense of the dream but it was fading away too quickly, like a shoreline of a distant land.

The only thing left was a terrible sinking feeling in his chest, that told him that he needed to find Gerard. Something had gone horribly wrong.

.

Mikey ran downstairs, when he heard voices shouting. "You've got to be shitting me, right now, Bob!" Ray yelled, pacing back and forth in the front room, raking his hands through his curly hair. 

Bob was standing in the threshold to the kitchen, looking agitated and worried as all hell, he threw his hands up in the air, "What was I supposed to do?! Let them go off into the night to go on some fucked up killing spree -"

"What the hell are you talking about?! This is Frank and Gerard we're talking about Bob! They're our friends, and you fucking ratted them out!" Ray screamed, he had stopped pacing and was glaring at Bob, his tone sharp.

Bob had grown still, he had looked up and seen Mikey standing on the stair case watching them and suddenly looked guiltier than a sinner in church, "Ray, we have company."

Ray looked up and his face paled when he saw Mikey. "What are you guys arguing about?" Mikey asked.

"We're not arguing." Ray grumbled, and Bob scoffed from across the room. Ray shot him a dark look. Mikey raised an eyebrow in disbelief at the two of them, and Ray's shoulder sunk, as he groaned and admitted, "Okay, so there's been an accident."

Alarm bells rang off in Mikey's head, as he remembered the dream he had just awoken from, Frank mother's words ringing in his ears, his mind immediately going to his brother, wondering if he was safe or not. "Where's Gerard?!" He demanded.

Bob gave Ray a look, and then crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Ray to explain. Ray stayed silent, and Mikey slammed his fists on the staircase railing, "Tell me where my brother is, dammit!" He demanded.

Ray cringed, suddenly looking smaller under Mikey's venomous glare. The only noise that filled the room was the wind that was howling against the house, like a mother wailing in the night. "Mikey... he left with Frank a few hours ago. Bob says they..."

"They attacked me." Bob spat, and moved his jacket to reveal dark red and purple lines that covered his neck. Mikey felt his heart drop, not wanting to believe any of what was being said for the truth, "They went out on some sick revenge mission... to the woods that Brian was talking about earlier, from what I can assume, to find Frank's dad."

"Gerard would never agree to that!" Mikey shot back. Bob let out a dark laugh. Mikey felt anger burn across his face, as he readied himself to argue, but Ray cleared his throat.

"It doesn't matter anymore! Whether they set out to hurt that man tonight or not, they are still our friends, and Bob... you put them both in fucking danger!"

"Frank deserves to be locked up, he's not our friend anymore! He's fucking dangerous!" Bob finally yelled, his words blanketed the room like an atomic bomb. No one spoke for several moments, Bob grunted, "I am sorry..."

"No, you're not." Mikey growled, he turned to Ray, who looked just as shocked and hurt by Bob as Mikey felt. Mikey was shaking, from anger and fear. "I think Gerard is in trouble, Ray, you gotta help me find him. I think he might be hurt." Mikey's voice trembled on the end of his sentence, as he let his mind linger to the dark place in his mind that was growing as he imagined his brother stranded in the woods, injured or worse.

Ray's expression softened, he nodded quickly, as if his answer was obvious, "Of course, I'll help you."

"What if you don't like what you find?" Bob spoke up, as Mikey and Ray hurried to gather their things. Ray had already grabbed the car keys, and was stuffing them into his jacket's pocket. Mikey and him both looked up at Bob when he said this, both hesitating by the front door, as they thought this over.

"Friends don't abandon friends. I thought you knew that, Bob." Mikey said, the anger from his voice had drained, leaving behind nothing but a tired sigh wavering through his voice. Bob's scowl deepened at his words, Ray opened the front door for Mikey to go through. The cold November night seemed to whisper in his ear, that once he stepped through that door, nothing would ever be the same.

Mikey hesitated for a moment, feeling the catastrophe that was about to ensue waiting for him like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. He took a deep breath, and went through the door, his mind focused on his brother, because if Mikey didn't save him, who would?

Mikey just hoped there was still something left to save when he found him.

.

Frank had been wandering through the forest for what felt like hours, he wasn't even sure where he was going at this point. He was carrying Gerard's body, he hadn't wanted to leave it behind so that vultures or the crows could pick at his eyes, or his organs, or for the forest floor to claim him as if he belonged to her. Frank wanted to take him home, to his brother. As he had been walking, Frank ran through his mind over and over trying to figure out how Gerard could've been shot, his grief had been taken over by a soul-eating confusion.

It took him hours, but it finally hit him. When Frank's dad had shot the gun and the bullet had entered Frank's body and exited out his back, Gerard had been standing right behind him, unknowingly, and it had hit him instead. The bullet had done nothing to Frank, but had ultimately chosen to take Gerard instead. In the end, Frank's dad had still taken more from Frank than what the hollow act of revenge had given back to Frank. And now there was no changing the events of that night.

Frank kept running this realization through his mind, and realized why Gerard had done what he had done when Frank had died. Frank felt like he had been run through the chest by fate's sword, completely at the mercy of its irony. He felt so helpless to the stars, they all seemed to have fallen on his shoulders just then, as he kept remembering there was no changing the past. It was starting to drive him mad.

Something drew Frank out of his thoughts though, red and blue lights flickered against the trees, casting long ominous silhouettes, and for a second Frank couldn't make sense of the scene in front of him. Frank had finally happened upon the spot where Gerard and him had entered the forest a few hours back, there were a dozen police cars crowding the treeline. Frank could see that a few officers were searching their car, taking out spare weapons and placing them into plastic bags. Frank looked around and saw flashlights shining off the trees, like the eyes of a monster, searching for him. Frank groaned, he wasn't expecting this much of a Welcome Home Party.

A light fell on him, and Frank heard men shouting. Frank didn't try to run, there was no use. A bad idea was forming in his brain, he certainly didn't want to go to jail, but he didn't think he could go home either. He couldn't stand to face Mikey, not after what he had done to his brother. The only place meant for him was the morgue, or a hole, 6 feet underground.

The officers were now forming a circle around Frank, all of them shouting orders at him to raise his hands in the air. Their flashlights were blinding, and they all had their hands wavering above the guns on their belts. A lot of them were gasping when they saw Gerard, "Put the man down!" One of the men shouted at Frank.

"He's my friend." Frank protested, stubbornly. He heard several others in the group muttering things like, 'Is he dead?' 'I don't think he's breathing!' Frank had to try hard not to spit at them.

"I said put the man down, and get on your knees with your hands behind your head!" The same officer screamed, his beady white eyes were practically bulging out of his skull.

Frank didn't want to be separated from Gerard, as much as logic was telling him to just put his body down, to let him go, he couldn't. He made a quick decision there in that moment, that where Gerard went, Frank would follow. So, he slowly lowered Gerard's body to the ground, the officers all watched him, their faces marked by distrust. Some of them even looked repulsed by Frank, as if they suspected he was the one who killed Gerard. It made Frank want to laugh. As Frank got to the ground, he bolted for Gerard's pocket, and grabbed the gun that he had been hiding. An officer to Frank's left, screamed an order at him, but Frank couldn't hear him over the sound of his own mind racing at a hundred miles per hour like a freight train. Frank aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, shooting up at the sky. 

As he did, the rest of the officers pulled their guns and fired them, filling Frank's body with lead. Frank fell over Gerard, pretending that he was truly dead. The officers were all shouting at one another, as Frank laid still, feeling the stagnant blood running out of the bullet holes, like ink. It didn't hurt, Frank dimly wondered how horrible this must have felt for Gerard, and quietly wished that he could feel at least half of his pain. Frank stared vacantly up at the stars above him, the night was clear, Frank could see the milky way running across the sky. He made wishes on every single star, until an officer came along and placed Frank in a body bag. The man muttered something along the lines of, "Poor, sick, bastard." As he zipped up the bag, stealing away Frank's view of the stars, and everything else shiny, and beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnnngggh only one more chapter after this folks :')


	35. Forgive Us Father For We Have Sinned

Mikey knew something was wrong when they arrived at the edge of the forest, and saw police cars gathered around like moths to a flame. "Oh shit." Ray muttered under his breath as he parked the car, there was a single ambulance sitting with its lights flashing ominously towards the corner, paramedics were walking around, their faces grim. Mikey felt his heart sinking through the floor, he pinched the inside of his arm until his nails drew blood, praying that he'd wake up from whatever nightmare he was in. He could distantly hear Ray saying something to him, but couldn't make out what, not until Ray grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, "Mikey!" He said, meeting Mikey's eyes, his gaze was flooded with just as much anxiety as Mikey was feeling.

"Gerard..." Mikey started, but didn't know how to finish. Thoughts of his brother laying somewhere on the forest floor, alone, lost and hurt, kept flashing behind his eyelids and made Mikey's skin crawl, as if he could feel the slow creep of the moss and insects consuming his brother's body.

"Mikey, listen to me. Gerard is fine. The paramedics are here because Bob called them and told them there might be a homocidal maniac out in the forest, so they came prepared! That doesn't mean Gerard is hurt..." Ray explained, sounding rational. The light inside of the car was dim and blue, casting long dark shadows across Ray's face, making him look older than he really was. It was starting to get cold, the leather seats were icy against Mikey's skin. 

"I can't lose him, Ray. He's my best friend." Mikey's voice trembled with fear that dripped from his words. 

Ray's eyes softened, he leaned in close and held Mikey, his hair tickling Mikey's cheek. Mikey let out a shaky sob into his shoulder, they sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity, both boys not wanting to let go of the other, for fear that they'd fall apart completely. They only pulled apart when there was a tap at the window, Ray jumped and they both turned to see an officer frowning at them. He looked young, his brown hair was ruffled and messy, despite his youth, he looked tired, as if this single night had aged him several years. His badge read "Brendon." Ray rolled down the window, and cleared his throat, "Hello, officer" He started, respectfully.

Brendon's frown stayed plastered to his face, as he said, "Mind telling me what you guys are doing out here? This is a crime scene, if you couldn't tell." His tone was reprimanding, and Mikey saw Ray recoil under it.

"We were just -" Ray tried to explain, but Mikey cut him off.

"My brother disappeared tonight, and we think he's in those woods." Mikey's words seemed to shatter Brendon's composure. From the look on his face, Mikey could tell that he had seen things tonight that would stain his memory like blood on white sheets.

His face fell, his dark eyes suddenly heavy with something that looked like guilt. He raked a hand through his hair, his adam's apple bobbed slightly, as he tried to get himself together. He didn't look Mikey in the eyes as he cursed under his breath and asked, "Jesus, you know those kids?" 

Mikey's throat tightened as he nodded, woodenly. Brendon shook his head, and motioned for them to get out of the car. Ray and Mikey shared a concerned look, as they unfastened their seatbelts and exited the car, following Brendon's uneasy pace as he led them towards the bank of police cars. The night was so much colder than it had been when Mikey had left the house, his light jacket did nothing to keep out the cold, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably. The closer they got to the scene, the more Mikey could make out the conversations on the police scanners, and chaos that surrounded him. The cops all seemed shaken up, an older man with greying hair and a permanent frown turning his mouth down, looked up from the two men he was talking to, and gave Brendon an unhappy look, 

"Who are these people, Urie?" He barked.

Brendon stiffened, "That one says he's one of these guys' brother." He replied, pointing over towards Mikey. Mikey processed that sentence, realizing that that meant they had found Gerard and Frank. His heart beat picked up, wondering what on Earth they could've discovered that caused Brendon to react the way he did back at the car, deep down, Mikey already knew.

His brother was hurt. Bad.

The officer turned and gave Mikey and Ray a heavy look. He walked towards them, and started to give them a lecture, whilst asking questions like, "How was he acting when they left the house?" And, "When was the last time you had contact with your brother?" Ray answered, while Mikey stared past the man. Brendon was off to the side, his gaze off towards something to the right of the ambulance, his eyes were glassy with a sort of inhuman detachment. Mikey followed his eyes, his heart practically pounding in his ears, and saw that there, laying on the ground, were two black body bags.

Mikey felt the world slip out from underneath him, he was running towards the ambulance like a meteor crashing to Earth before he could stop himself. "Gerard!" He screamed, "Is that my brother?! My brother, my brother, please!" His voice cracked, Brendon started to run after Mikey, calling for him to stop, but Mikey was already stumbling to the ground beside the body bags. His chest heaved, his hands too shaky to unzip the bags, the paramedics caught his arms and started to drag him back. Mikey kicked and screamed, Ray was calling his name, everything was blending together until Mikey was sure his ears were going to bleed. "Where's my brother?!" Mikey sobbed, "I want my brother, please, please." 

A shorter woman, with a soft face and wide eyes was trying to calm Mikey down, "Sweetie, take a deep breath for me."

"Where's my fucking brother?! I just want to see him, I need to see him. Please, his name is Gerard." Mikey screamed, the officer's grips on his arms were too tight, Mikey could imagine them cutting deep into his bones, crushing them until they were nothing but dust. 

The paramedic bit her lip worriedly, Brendon had stepped towards the body bags, and was carefully unzipping them, his lips pressed into a thin line as he did, his skin ghostly pale. As if he could feel the rip that was about to be torn through Mikey's soul by this action. The first one, revealed Frank, and anger screamed through Mikey's body like a train whistle, "Frank, you fucking bastard! I know you can hear me! You fucker, how could you drag him into this?!" The officers and paramedics all shared concerned glances, but Mikey didn't care, as he tried to throw himself at him. Frank didn't stir, his eyes were unblinking and glassy, staring up at the sky, but if Mikey stared hard enough, he could see a slight twitch in his lip, as if he were shaken by Mikey's words. Mikey wanted to rip him apart.

Mikey's attention was pulled away from Frank by Brendon, who had unveiled the body in the other bag. Mikey saw the light catch Gerard's silver hair like a ghost under a flashlight, his skin as pale as a gossamer curtain, lips purpled and bloodied. His eyes were closed, unlike Frank's, so that he looked like he was sleeping. But Mikey knew, no amount of screaming and begging would wake him. 

Mikey felt like he was being split apart at a molecular level, as if some part of him were dying along with Gerard, he collapsed to the ground, wailing, the paramedics didn't let him go, as he tried to drag himself towards his brother. Mikey's breath burned his lungs, nothing he did was ever enough to stop the pain that had erupted in his ribcage, taking a dagger would have hurt less. "Come back, please, you can't leave me here, Gerard. I need you, I need you, please." Mikey sobbed, snot and tears were running down his face and chin, the bitter winter wind stinging against his skin. Mikey tried to reach back out towards him, but was stopped by Ray, who rushed over and wrapped Mikey up in his arms. Mikey could hear Ray's heartbeat through his shirt, as he buried his head into his chest. Ray clutched him tightly, not daring to let go, not even as the paramedics and officers tried to move them.

"I am sorry. I am sorry, I should've protected him." Ray apologized, his words so full of sorrow, Mikey was sure he could drown in the ocean of them. 

"You did more than enough." Mikey finally choked out, they stayed like that for awhile, shaking and crying together, the paramedics had draped a blanket around them, the red and blue lights flashing against their faces until the whole world melted into a bruised purple. Mikey's soul still felt frozen. The first hints of light were breaking apart the stars above them, clouds blocked the sunrise, so that the sky was one blanket of grey, as if all of Mikey's sadness had stolen the sun right out of the sky.

.

Frank woke up to the cold bite of metal pressing into his skin. He opened his eyes and blinked several times, trying to make sense of the darkness around him. It didn't get any easier to see, for a moment, Frank imagined being trapped inside of the coffin again and a deep horror gripped his chest. However, this was much cooler than the coffin had been, and was definitely metal, unless if his friends had buried him in a casket made of steel so that he couldn't ever get back out again, he was definitely not 6 ft under. However, after everything that had happened, Frank wouldn't blame them if they did. 

Frank felt a dull pain coursing through his veins, the type of pain that only people with broken ribcages and mourning mothers understand, the type that cracks your bones open and leaves you breathless, making a cemetery out of your chest, until wildflowers bloom up your throat and choke you, from the graves of memories you can't stop visiting. Frank wanted nothing more than to disappear, to unbecome whatever it was that had made him into this. He felt his soul reaching out towards Gerard's, like light from a dying star. 

Frank swallowed thickly, "You have to get out of here." He thought to himself, "Mourning can be saved for later." He sighed, and reached out, feeling the space around him. Everything was cool and made of metal, that was when Frank realized.

"Am I in a morgue?" He asked aloud. No one answered, he looked towards his feet, and saw a dim light escaping through a crack. He shifted until his feet hit a metal door, and then kicked it. The door swung open without protest, much to Frank's surprise. Frank inched himself out, off the metal slab, until he fell to the ground, his knee cracking painfully as he landed. Frank grunted, and looked around, he was in a dark room, a wall of vaults holding bodies surrounded him. When he turned around, he could make out a table in the middle of the room, and on it, sat a body that was covered head to toe in cloth. Frank didn't know why, but he started to make his way towards it, like gravity from a star tugging him in. His hands shook, purple and bloody in the dark light, as he ripped the white sheet away from the thing's face.

Frank let out a sob, his composure crumpling, when he saw Gerard's face. It was so pale, as if Frank were seeing a reflection in a pool, he didn't look real. He was so still, Frank pressed his ear to Gerard's chest, tears slipping down the side of his face, as he listened for a heartbeat he knew he wouldn't find. Everything in his body was screaming words that he wanted - no, needed to say. But Frank only whimpered in the darkness of the room, his shoulders shaking, something in him had finally broke apart. 

After what felt like centuries, he stood up, Gerard stayed laying there on the examination table, waiting to be dissected like an 8th grade biology project. "In another life you lived and I stayed 6ft under where I belonged." Frank finally said, he had stopped crying, his chest felt hollowed out, like a grave. "In a better one, we were stars."

As Frank stared down at Gerard, he knew he couldn't go home, not ever again. At least not in this life, so he decided to get lost, slipping out of the morgue and into the night, like a ghost crossing over to the otherside.

.

Winter passed like an old man on his death bed, slow and painful, creeping its way across the Earth like a shadow. The days swam together like a morphine dream, that Mikey could barely keep track of. He felt untethered without his brother. He would find himself at Gerard's grave in the center of the sunflower field, where they had originally buried Frank, and he'd sit there for hours. It felt empty, as if the grave wasn't truly occupied but just another piece of the ground. Mikey would sit there until the salty sea breeze and cold air cracked his lips open, so that they would bleed, trying to convince himself that it was something sacred, that his brother was more than just rotting bones.

Frank had disappeared, so that it was only Ray, who stayed at the lighthouse regularly. Brian and Bob popped in from time to time, to check to make sure that Mikey hadn't died, since he had practically dropped off the face of the Earth since his brother's death. They always looked so sad, they would look around the lighthouse as if they were expecting to catch Gerard painting by a windowsill or trying to play guitar, but there was nothing left in the house but empty corners and abandoned coffee mugs, that Mikey never had the energy to pick up.

Mikey had covered the walls of the lighthouse in pictures of birds that he had taken, he had a dismal hope that one day he might see his brother's eyes in one of the birds, a sign that his spirit lived on in something that was more free than Mikey ever could dream to be. But all the pictures were average, dull and empty of any hints of Gerard. Ray marveled at them all the time, staring at the pictures with a glint in his eye that was both worried and wonderful, "You've got a gift Mikey." He'd say in awe.

Mikey would only shrug, he didn't talk much either since Gerard died, everything felt unspectacular without his brother there to hear it, so he kept quiet. Ray tried to prod and start conversations, usually over meals that he'd cook since Mikey only had enough energy to make hot pockets or cereal, and that was on good days. Mikey was surprised to find that Ray was actually amazing at cooking, and they'd sit on the couch and eat tofu or french toast in companionable silence.

One night, when a blizzard had kicked up out of nowhere towards the end of February, and had whited out the world until all that was left of the town was the sound of cars sliding on the slick roads and light from the light house, Ray had finally said, "You have to let him go." It was silent except for the hum of the television, Ray was sitting on a chair, watching the snow storm, Mikey was laying on the couch bundled up in a blanket, he didn't respond. 

Zzzzzzzzzpppt the t.v. buzzed.

Ray was frowning, his eyes pleading as he said, "Mikey, I miss you. I know everything is fucked up now, and can't go to how they were before, but I fucking miss you. I miss talking, and fucking laughing, I miss going to concerts and god," Ray had started to tear up, Mikey had sat up on the couch, and was blinking furiously to keep himself from crying. Ray rubbed at his eyes, they were red-rimmed, and for the first time in a long time, Mikey could see clearly that they were both two broken people.

"But even broken people can heal." A voice in Mikey's head chimed, that almost sounded like Gerard.

"You stay in bed all day, and I get that you're depressed, but if you don't try to get better for your own sake, then I am really going to lose everyone, and I can't handle that, Mikey!" Ray sobbed, "I can't do this forever, I need... I need -"

"You need better friends and for me to get my shit together." Mikey finished, he had gotten up from the couch, and was crossing the room to Ray. Ray sniffled, looking like a little kid huddled on the chair with his arms hugging his knees to his chest. Mikey bent down and grasped Ray's face in his hands, "I will never leave you. No matter what, you got me." As Mikey said it, he realized it was more than just a promise to Ray, but to Gerard, and himself.

Ray sobbed, and Mikey hugged him. They sat there in the quiet of the lighthouse, the room suddenly felt lighter than it had before, as if a pressure had risen from their chests, outside, the snow stopped and the sun tentatively peaked through the clouds, like an old friend, waiting to be let in.

.

It was the middle of April, Frank Iero had left the small town by the sea and the lighthouse months ago, but it had felt like a life time. He had wandered the country side in a car, living out of motels like a vampire, sleeping during the day and only sneaking out at night to go the clubs or bars. He couldn't feel much of anything anymore, he always ended up getting into fights in alleyways for fun, and was left with too many bruises to count and an empty chest.

He had contemplated going home, some nights he'd sit by his window and he swore the moon was speaking to him, like a siren, if Frank listened close enough he could smell the sea breeze and feel the cool touch of the ocean on his cheeks, running its fingers through his hair, gently. Only to be ripped back to whatever hell hole he was staying at, the only company being the pungent smell of vomit and alcohol. 

He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, just that he couldn't go home. He would think of Mikey, and sometimes the guilt would hit him so hard, Frank was surprised that it didn't eat him whole. On nights like those he'd throw himself off of buildings just for fun, only to get up off the sidewalk as if nothing had happened. Frank knew that he was being a coward by running, but what else was he supposed to do?

He had killed Gerard. He had no hope left.

The crows still followed Frank, they liked the smell of death that forever clung to him like a second skin. Frank didn't mind them, all that much, their presence was nice for company. They reminded him of the first time Gerard and him had met, and Gerard had had one perched upon his shoulder like a familiar. It made his chest hum with longing.

It wasn't until one day, around 2 p.m., Frank had been dreaming, which was weird, considering he was dead and hadn't had a dream since his death. He was back at the light house, the ocean below in chaos, as a storm bigger than anything he had ever seen before thrashed in the heavens, like gods in battle. Rain poured in sheets, making it impossible to see, all that was present was the ever booming sound of thunder cracking like a whip. Frank could make out the sunflower field in the haze, however, and could see a cross poking out of the ground that was bending in the wind. Frank realized it wasn't his grave, since he had destroyed his, so it must have been -

Gerard's.

Crows infested the site, despite the storm, cawing as if they were in a symphony, and pecking at the ground like they were trying to dig. Everything felt dizzying and catastrophic, and then -

BOOM!

a zap of lightning, like a bridge between Earth and God touched the ground, blinding Frank for several moments until all he saw was bright white. He blinked, until his vision cleared, and he discovered that the cross had been split in two, and was smoking. The lightning had struck it, and blackened the wood. The crows had all gone quiet and the storm had stopped, everything was so still that it almost drove Frank mad.

And then, a hand burst from the soil of the grave, just like Frank's had, and just like that, Frank woke up. He sat up in bed, adjusting to the darkness, his brain frantic as he tried to make sense of what he had just dreamt. Everything swirling like storm clouds in his brain, all coming to one answer:

Frank had to get back to the lighthouse. He had to fix what he had broken. 

Frank left that night, and didn't stop driving for hours, until he was up the path that led to the lighthouse, the familiar figure looming over him, like an omen in a vision, like the devil caught in the night.

.

There was a knock at the door, Mikey looked over to Ray, who was frowning at the noise. Mikey raised an eyebrow, "Did Bob say he was coming over?" He asked. Ray shook his head. "Brian?" Mikey continued, another "no" from Ray. They both stared at the door, thunder crashing outside the house. The red lampshade they had bought casted a crimson glow over everything, Mikey looked down at the clock and saw that it was exactly Midnight, and his stomach twisted. Whatever it was that wanted their attention, was up to no good.

And yet, Mikey found himself moving towards the door anyways. Ray jumped up from the floor, and stood in front of him, his eyes incredulous, "Are you fucking serious!? What are you? A white person in a horror movie?! You don't just answer the door at midnight, after some weird ass knocking! We have enough problems, demons should not be added to the list." Ray exclaimed.

Mikey looked up at him with a frustrated expression, his eyebrow slightly raised as he let out a breath, "Don't be ridiculous. It's probably just the wind." He said.

"That's exactly what a white person in a horror movie would say -" Ray started, throwing his hands up in the air, that was when there were three loud bangs on the door that made the two of them jump. Mikey's heart leapt into his chest, hair prickled on the back of his neck. "Do you still think it's the wind?" Ray breathed. Mikey glared at him, and punched him in the arm, Ray was so terrified he didn't even protest. 

Mikey crept towards the door, Ray was begging him to stop behind him, but Mikey wasn't listening. Everything in his body was telling him to answer the door, as if the universe were guiding his hand, as it landed on the door knob and pulled the door open. 

For a moment, Mikey couldn't process the man in front of him. He looked too tired and beat up to be the Frank that he remembered, he was pale and sickly looking, his lip was busted open and a long cut ran along his forehead, his clothes were way too big and were ripped in several places. It looked as if Frank had picked a fight with an oncoming train, by the look on Frank's face and his suicidal tendencies, Mikey sorta didn't doubt that suspicion. 

After the intial confusion, a familiar sadness bubbled up in Mikey's chest. The last time he had seen Frank was when Gerard had died, his body had been laying on the ground right next to his brother's, rigid and lifeless. Mikey couldn't move, his own sorrow a weight tied to his ankles that kept him glued to the spot. He was surprised to find that he wasn't angry with Frank, almost as if all the anger had burned completely out of him, until all that was left was a hole in his chest, that could never be filled.

Frank must've read this on Mikey's face, because he looked as guilty as a dog. He bowed his head, scratching the back of his neck, as he opened his mouth to say something but Ray cut him off, "You bastard, where the fuck have you been? What makes you think you can show up here... after what you did?!"

Frank wilted under Ray's tone, the rain had stopped and there was only the slight noise of water dripping from the gutters, and the ocean waves crashing down below. In the distance, Mikey could see another storm bubbled up, the clouds illuminated every time a bolt of lightning arched across the sky. Frank didn't speak, but he looked up and met Mikey's gaze, his eyes said more than words ever could as he begged for forgiveness.

Mikey blinked, "Tell us what you're here for, Frank. Something tells me it's for more than just a chat over coffee and Led Zepplin."

Frank sighed, Mikey couldn't help but notice the crowd of crows that had gathered in the field in front of the lighthouse, he hadn't seen them in months and had assumed they had gone away for the winter. He now realized that they must follow Frank, an uneasy feeling settled in Mikey's gut at the thought. The world around them was too shadowy, it almost felt as if it had become a living, breathing creature, that salivated at the mouth like a wolf as it listened in on their conversation. Frank had turned to look at the clouds behind them, the sky was pitch black except for the lightning that winked at them, like a bad idea in the form of an angel. He turned back to Mikey and Ray, a manic look in his eyes that made Mikey's heart jump, like it had just been hot-wired.

Frank grinned deviously, his words ringing like thunder, as he said, "There's a storm coming."

From the sunflower field, a crow cawed, loud and eerie, shattering the night in two halves, as the clouds opened up above them, and it started to pour. Without speaking, as if they were all working telepathically and had been waiting for this moment, they sprang into action. Mikey followed Frank to the field, while Ray, grabbed the shovels, the clouds above hid their figures from the stars' prying eyes, as the rain whispered to the Earth, and the three boys got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER!!! Hoo boy, I don't know where to begin about what a journey this has been. I have completely loved every moment of telling this story, I have dealt with a lot of things through writing this story, and it had almost been like a friend to me for the past few months. I am going to miss this world a lot!!!
> 
> Thank you for reading if you have made it this far!!! I appreciate it so much, it really means the world to me :D 
> 
> Thank you for reading <333


End file.
